


The Ones Who Burn

by VereorInHell



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Band Fic, Best Friends DoTae, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Mention of Baekhyun x Taeyong, Mention of Kai x Taeyong, Mention of obsessive behaviors, Minor Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Morally ambiguous character mentioned, Multiple Pairings, NCT 127 Ensemble-centric, NCT Dream - Freeform, NCT dream as babies of the team, Platonic Taeil x Taeyong, Shitstorm on the internet, Team as Family, Threesome - M/M/M, mention of superm, sharing is caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VereorInHell/pseuds/VereorInHell
Summary: Lee Taeyong is the handsome leader of NCT 127. The members love him. Truly. More than he thinks. But then a nasty tweet comes up, and what do you know, Lee Taeyong, they really, really love you.Or: mean comments break the team apart but the members' love for each other (and their leader in particular) is stronger, and they rebuild."We, as idols, are the light of the candle burning. The fans, the haters, all of them are moths. But sometimes? Sometimes it's us the ones who get burnt"
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Taeyong/Everyone, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 56
Kudos: 308





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Watch out during the chapters for mention of kidnapping and obsessive behaviors from multiple directions!

The boy is thin. So thin. He looks like he could break if you hold him too tight. It makes you think about soft hugs and gentle touches. About caressing hands and voices murmuring sweet things.

About murmuring sweet, raunchy, nasty things.

That pretty face could rival the one of an angel, and his dark eyes sparkle, full of life. The boy looks sinful even when he tries to pull a cute face, and the more he goes for a cute look the more you can’t help wondering how it’d feel to trash his perfect, tight lithe body.

The manager swallows. He’s got this, he’s good at keeping his thoughts in check. He’s been working with this boy in particular for a few years already, and with the time he’s mastered the art of keeping his desire tuned down and out of his face. That means, he knows how to hide it.

Still, even after so many years, sometimes it’s just so difficult, he knows it’s better if he just leaves the room. So he does just that. He swears softly under his breath and leaves the practice room filled with booming music. The bass thumps and helps the boys concentrate, following the steps. The angel looking creature that is their front man stomps harder on some steps to keep track of the counts.

One, two, one two three, four, spin. Lee Taeyong looking too fucking much for this poor manager’s heart, let alone something else placed a little bit lower than his heart. The man closes the door after himself making sure not to attract attention. He doesn’t want to distract the boys.

Outside he realizes that there’s a small group of people gathered to stare at the practicing boys, the hall window crowded by a total of three make up people, the head stylist and a sound assistant. The manager scowls at them, fists on his hips. He’s got the same expression he uses on the NCT 127 members when he tries to make his point through.

The staff people react quite differently though. They all snicker and laugh at him, the head stylist not even bothering looking away from the object of his attention, Lee Taeyong himself.

“Seriously, what is this? Why are you staring at the boys like vultures?” the manager asks, in a very disapproving tone.

The make up ladies turn to him with a matching raised eyebrow, daring him to repeat that. Yeah, he knows, that was a little bit hypocritical.

“Jesus fuck, I don’t even know what to do with this boy anymore” the head stylist moans softly under his breath, too engrossed in the scene unfolding on the other side of the window to care.

“Yeah, yeah, you think he’s hot, we get it” the manager says, waving a hand in front of himself: “don’t you dare cover him in leather again though” he adds, pointing a finger.

“Why not? He looks so good in it” the sound assistant points out: “I’m not even into guys and even so I would never deny it”

The manager tries to fight the blush. Yes, he agrees. And he’s not into guys too – beside Lee Taeyong, that is. The boy always brings so many straight men to question their orientation, and the manager is accustomed to this. People reacting to the boy’s allure. His own brain, pointing out that he might be gay, if only for Lee Taeyong. People commenting lewd things they’d love to do to the boy.

But the manager is also the adult man responsible of the boys’ safety, Lee Taeyong included. He doesn’t like hearing the sexual fantasies the boy triggers in other people’s minds. He doesn’t like the liberty they take in voicing them too close to the object of those very same fantasies. The manager knows the boy, and knows very well how uncomfortable Lee Taeyong would feel, should he ever hear them.

That’s why he scowls harder at the head stylist, even if he personally, quite frankly agrees with the man’s opinion.

Because, admittedly, Lee Taeyong looks splendid in black leather, chains and a choker. He would look even better if the leather clothes were even more skimpy and flimsy than what SM and TV censorship allows.

“You’ve already done that for the punch MV. No need to do it again so soon” he reasons.

“I’ve been trying to slip in leather clothes on him ever since then” the head stylist replies, not bothering looking away from Taeyong. In the room, completely absorbed in the routine they are practicing, Taeyong repeats the same sequence of three steps a couple of times, slower for Jaehyun to follow and then faster, once his friend has picked up on it.

The manager scoffs and joins the rest of the crew, partially giving up on playing any moral role.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed” he comments.

They stare for another five minutes. Inside, the music is stopped, and the choreographer discusses something with Taeyong and Mark. Haechan lifts his head and, completely by chance, notices the crowd gathered at the window. He makes eye contact with the manager, and the man smiles, friendly and as fatherlike as he can. The boy beams and waves back.

That’s a signal, though, and the manager repeats he wants everyone gone in the next minute. The makeup girls protest but start walking away, the sound assistant laughing as he jogs after them. The head stylist nods to himself and then smiles wickedly at the manager.

“I know we can’t, but you get how much I’d love to, right?”

The manager lets out a surprised laugh at that. He agrees. Dressing up Taeyong in leather, chain and a choker would be so nice. But he doesn’t say that – can’t really, and he shakes his head and tells his colleague to scram.

The head stylist leaves, and the manager looks once again through the window. Haechan is busy now, the choreographer showing something to both him and Jungwoo, but someone is still looking his way. Yuta’s eyes find the man’s ones, and they hold his stare, silent and deep. Yuta is an enigma most of the times, but the manager prides himself on having learned enough to decipher most of his looks.

He knows Yuta saw people staring at Taeyong. He must have seen also the manager scattering the crowd. The man smiles, a thin-lipped thing, and Yuta answers with a wicked, almost feral grin, the one that makes him look like a wolf. The manager smiles broader at that, and the boy chuckles. Johnny engages him, thinking Yuta was laughing at him. The Japanese boy gestures in direction of the window as he explains what happened. Johnny turns to look at the window too and snorts when he sees the manager waving at them. He waves back.

The members go back to their rehearsal and the manager leaves them, trusting them to do a good work with the choreographer. He has an incredible number of other things to take care of anyway, so, after one final look, he leaves as well.


	2. A Light

“Manager-ssi was looking at us, earlier” Yuta comments.

They are all sprawled on the floor of the practice room, in different state of exhaustion-induced collapse. Taeyong has one knee bent in the air, the other on the floor, hands resting on his still heaving chest. Mark and Jaehyun are both on the floor, heads in the hollow of each other’s shoulder. Johnny, Doyoung and Jungwoo are sitting, braced on their hands. Yuta leans down on his side, elbow bent to keep his head up, Haechan and Taeil sitting against the mirror.

“He was?” Doyoung asks, looking at Yuta.

The Japanese boy hums and nods: “He looked for a while and then he left”

“Yeah, he does that” Haechan confirms.

“It’s nice. He wants to check on us but keeps to himself” Mark comments.

Jaehyun snorts: “Yeah, sure”

Mark frowns and tries to look at him, but only ends up bringing their cheeks together in an awkward twisting manner.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“He wasn’t the only one looking” Yuta explains, still smiling and in a calm voice that clashes with the light in his eyes.

From the floor, Taeyong sighs softly. Johnny laughs: “Well, we always get people looking at us rehearsing. What’s the big deal?”

Haechan shakes his head and waves his hand, in a clear my-point-exactly fashion.

“People always look at us practicing” Yuta repeats, eyes looking neutrally at the floor close to his feet.

“People always look at us, period” Doyoung points out, eyes trained on Yuta: “why do I get the feeling you’re trying to make a point?”

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t really about Manager-ssi?” Mark adds.

Yuta shrugs, not answering either of them.

Jaehyun snorts again and stands on his elbow, looking straight at Doyoung: “People look at us, yes, but people only look at some of us in a certain particular way. And Manager-ssi doesn’t like that” he explains, turning towards Mark about mid-way through.

Taeyong is uncharacteristically silent, and when Jaehyun turns to him, he finds their leader with his eyes closed.

Johnny follows Jaehyun’s eyes movement and rounds his mouth in a small oh of understanding, then he breaks out laughing.

“You mean Manager-ssi tries to protect Taeyongie’s virtue from the vultures watching?”

Yuta and Jaehyun snorts at the same time. Haechan and Mark start protesting, Mark almost blushing.

Taeyong opens his eyes but keeps them well trained on the ceiling. He tries to ignore the way the lights make them water. He tries to ignore even more the rush of uncomfortableness he feels whenever someone mentions the bodyguard function their 127 manager had to undertake shortly after they’ve started as a band.

“Oh, that” Doyoung says softly, clearly trying to say something to help Taeyong snap out of his state. He doesn’t know what to add though, and judging from the rigid line of Taeyong’s shoulders and jaw, he hasn’t really managed.

“I like Manager-ssi. He leaves us alone when he knows we can work by ourselves and doesn’t step over the line” Taeil airily comments, shaking his feet: “and yes, he keeps the vultures away before they get annoying”

Doyoung touches Taeyong with the tip of his shoes and clears his throat: “Come on. Hey, hyung, what do you want to eat when we go back at the dorm?”

“Uh, kimchi! Kimchi! Can we make kimchi?” Jungwoo asks, waving one hand in front of himself like an overexcited kid.

“Or we can just order something? I don’t really feel like cooking” Haechan suggests.

“Well you wouldn’t really cook anyway, Doyoung would do most of it” Jaehyun points out with a smirk.

“Hey! I help hyungs when they cook!” Haechan protests.

“Guys, what about pizza? I actually feel like pizza” Johnny steps in.

“Uh, I can dig that” Mark agrees, twisting his fingers at Johnny in a handgun motion.

“No, come on, I want kimchi” Jungwoo pouts.

“We can order pizza and make kimchi?” Taeil asks, looking around.

“Ah, but who would pay for the pizza?” Haechan asks, raising his hand already closed into a fist.

“No, guys, come on” Taeyong interrupts them, suddenly sitting up and splaying his hands wide in front of himself: “we are not mixing kimchi with pizza. I’ve raised you better than that. Doyoung, let’s cook something when we’re back. I’m not that tired. Are you?”

Doyoung shakes his head no and points out that he had actually originally offered to cook in the first place.

The members get up, shuffle around and pack, trading jokes and teasing each other as usual.

Doyoung keeps close to Taeyong, who, as usual, is among the last ones to leave the room. He’s bent over his phone and Doyoung can guess he’s texting Manager-ssi that they’re heading back to the dorm.

“Hey” Doyoung says. Taeyong snaps his head back up and meets his friends’ eyes.

“What?” he asks, face neutral but not fooling Doyoung.

See, Doyoung has this theory: it’s because Taeyong’s eyes are so damn big, that he’s learned so quickly how to read him, and so well. It’s too easy to know what’s inside Taeyong's mind, what hides behind those eyes so big. They’re like giant windows.

“Are you okay?” he asks, fully aware that Taeyong is not.

Predictably, Taeyong sighs and shrugs.

“Yeah. It’s just… you know. Nice to know that there are vultures inside this building, too” he comments. The casual tone does little to keep Doyoung from understanding how deeply the fact bothers his friend.

He nods and pursues his lips in a thin smile.

“Hey, at least Manager-ssi is good, right?” he asks, patting on Taeyong’s arm in a comforting gesture.

Taeyong snorts, looks down, and when he meets Doyoung’s eyes again he doesn’t have to speak. He doesn’t have to voice it, because Doyoung hears it anyway.

“Oh” Doyoung says, and his hand stills on Taeyong’s shoulder: “he looks at you, too?”

Taeyong shrugs, expression twisted in a grimace of discomfort: “I mean, at least he looks guilty for staring” he answers.

Doyoung nods: “And he really sends the rest of the vultures away” he repeats.

Taeyong nods: “Yeah, he does” he agrees, shouldering his backpack.

Doyoung follows him out of the room and towards the elevators.

“Seriously, does it bother you much?” he asks again.

Taeyong shrugs: “No. It’s been like this for years, and he’s actually gotten better. I can ignore him when he does it, and that’s more than I can say for many other people”

Doyoung nods, hitting the button to call the cabin up. A soft sound tingles and then the sliding doors part in front of them. They step in, content to find the elevator empty.

“So, what do you want to cook?” Doyoung asks, decided to switch the topic.

Taeyong grins at him: “Won’t you make me dalgona coffee?” he asks, and he even goes as far to pout.

Doyoung snorts loudly: “Yeah, no, absolutely not”

-

At the dorm they spread out, each member heading to their respective floor for a hard earned shower and a change of clothes. They do their usual thing, packing the elevator to maximum capacity, and count is lost on how many times elbows are knocked into someone's ribs. When they reach the fifth floor the inhabitants of the fifth floor dorm step out, the rest of the band heading up to the tenth floor with relieved expressions and comments about finally being able to breathe.

"I still don't get why we keep doing this" Haechan mutters under his breath, while Johnny and Doyoung simultaneously look for their door keys as if it was a race. Doyoung wins, big surprise.

"We keep each other company" Taeyong airily replies. It's not clear if he means it or not.

Haechan lifts his eyebrow in a very expressive are-you-freaking-kidding-me sort of way, but the leader is already walking through the open door and doesn't notice.

“Well it’s not like we live with each other literally every hour of every day of our lives” the maknae grumbles, shuffling behind the older members.

Doyoung and Taeyong are already discussing what needs to be done for the meal preparation. Haechan leaves without listening, makes quick eye contact with Johnny and is happy to notice his hyung motioning him to shower first. He fist pumps the air and shuffles towards his bedroom with a soft ‘swag’.

Halfway through his shower someone starts knocking on the door and it’s Doyoung, asking him how spicy he wants the meat.

“On fire, hyung!” he shouts back, and he hears Doyoung laughing as he leaves.

Johnny sneaks in the bathroom before Haechan is really done and plays some music on his phone.

“Come onnnn Haechan, move. Wait for later for your jerk off session”

“Hyung!” Haechan shouts, blushing furiously and laughing madly. He hurries up and finishes quickly, Johnny slipping in barely a few seconds after Haechan has come out. He towels himself dry and wraps it around his hips, using a second one for his hair. Johnny starts singing something offkey from Camila Cabelo, and that’s when Haechan decides that it’s safer to retreat to their shared bedroom.

When they are both ready to go back in the living room and kitchen they find Doyoung at the stove, a towel still draped on his shoulders, and Taeyong, busy cutting ingredients on a cutting board on the table. His blond hair is still dripping from his shower, and from time to time their leader whips his head to the side to move his bangs from his eyes.

Johnny snorts and slithers from his shoulders the towel he was using to dry his own hair, bending over Taeyong. He could actually sit down and he would still reach the top of their leader’s head, but for whatever reason he prefers to stand, ending up sort of looming over Taeyong.

“Yongie, you’re going to catch a cold” he scolds his younger, and proceeds to massage their leader’s hair dry with the towel. Taeyong doesn’t protest, in fact he tilts his head slightly back and for a bunch of seconds closes his eyes and hums in appreciation.

When Johnny deems his hair to be sufficiently dry he moves away, and Taeyong resumes his cutting work.

“Thanks Johnny”

Johnny wiggles his eyebrows: “You’re welcome, sweetie. I should very well take care of my wife after all, what with you being the mother of my children and all”

Taeyong snorts loudly and throws a half glare his way: “Okay, sometime this metaphor goes a little bit too far, uh”

“Why? It’s true. You’re mom, Johnny is dad” Haechan points out, plopping down in a chair.

“What does that make of me? I am the one cooking the most” Doyoung asks, curiously looking at Haechan from over his shoulder.

The maknae shrugs as if it was obvious: “One of the older sisters, obviously, because you always help mom”

Johnny laughs, covering Doyoung’s protests.

“What about Taeil hyung?” Taeyong asks.

“Obviously the grandpa” Johnny answers immediately, in English, placing a big hand on the table as if settling an argument.

Haechan agrees.

He and Johnny help a little, but mostly keep to themselves and watch as the Tom and Jerry couple work their magic at the stove. They put on some instrumental music from Johnny’s phone and laughs at their friends’ antics. It’s not long after that some of the members from the tenth floor appear as well.

Dinner is a relatively quiet affair, relatively being the key word given that it’s nine of them gathered all in the same living room. Doyoung nags at people leaving behind their cutleries and dirty dishes on the coffee table and doesn’t stop until all the dirty items have been brought back to the kitchen.

Taeyong, from his strategic position sprawled on the middle of the couch, joins hands on his full stomach and loudly tells them to load the washing machine, or else. Jungwoo and Yuta try to get him to finish that sentence or call him on the empty threat but no amount of teasing distracts Taeyong from his food induced slumber-like state. Mark plops down beside Taeyong and eyes his belly with a critical expression.

“What?” the elder asks, lazily raising an eyebrow.

Mark almost glares at the way Taeyong’s ribs are still protruding from where his oversized shirt has stuck close to his chest, and taps his fingers on the bones there.

“You’ve lost weight, hyung. I can tell”

Doyoung stops in his tracks, hands full of plates he was carrying to the kitchen and throws an inspecting look at where Mark’s fingers are touching Taeyong. He doesn’t like what he sees.

“Oh, hyung, again?” he sighs sounding very much like an exasperated mother.

Taeyong rolls his eyes and bats Mark’s hand away: “Okay, first of all, you’re not my mother. Second of all, you guys can hardly speak. And by the way, I haven’t. I even put on muscles after the make a wish MV”

Jaehyun snorts, him and Johnny sharing an amused look. Taeyong glares at them.

“I mean, hyung, come on” Haechan steps in, curling up on the loveseat close to Taeil: “you can’t really call that muscle”

“I mean, it is muscle” Taeil carefully, diplomatically comments: “just not the size of Jaehyun’s or Johnny’s”

Taeyong rolls his eyes again and huffs loudly.

“Look, hyung, we know you’re an adult” Mark hurries to add, fixing him with a pointed look: “but you can’t blame us if we worry”

“Worry for what” Taeyong exclaims, growing annoyed: “it’s not like I faint around or anything, guys. Come on, give me some credit”

Haechan rolls his eyes but doesn’t speak. Johnny and Jaehyun quietly murmur some sort of agreement, if only to keep peace. Doyoung, however, has no qualm about voicing his opinion.

“You mean, yet. You haven’t fainted yet” he comments, stressing particularly the adverb. He doesn’t leave Taeyong the chance to reply because he suddenly turns and heads to the kitchen.

“…Well, he’s not wrong” Mark points out, stealing a glance at Taeyong, but the leader is still glaring towards the open kitchen door. He clears his throat and loudly asks if anyone is up for some gaming or whatever else they should do after dinner.

Taeyong groans: “Mark, we’ve still got to go through those lines”

“Oh shit, true. Damn, I was really looking forward for some relax” he sighs, dropping the back of his head against the couch.

“Can we help?” Taeil asks.

Mark shakes his head: “Not this part. But thanks, hyung”


	3. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself, Lee Taeyong.

When you live surrounded by idols you get used to beautiful people around you. After a while it becomes the only thing you see. If you want fame you have to be at least pretty. The less good looking you are the more you must have something else to make up for it – and generally, the only quality that makes us for less than great looks is a celestial voice. But you still need to look pretty and photogenic. And if you dance? If you dance, you have to be hot. Period.

NCT is full of good looking, even hot guys. Each subunit has its share of pretty and very talented, quite hot and still talented, or very hot and less talented members. There are a few members that actually meet all criteria, being equally very good looking and very talented. That number actually is a single digit, which is impressive given the wide pool of twenty-three members to choose from, and smaller than five. Manager-ssi counts in that very short list only the following: Jaehyun, Haechan, Jungwoo, Yangyang and Ten. He might consider extending the list to other members, especially to some who have made a notable improvement since their debut (like Jeno, Lucas, Yuta, Sungchan… there’s many, really) – the list might expand soon, is what that means. But for now, he only considers these five.

Of course, they all come after the real deal of NCT. The one that singlehandedly wins that challenge because is a very talented, good singer, creative in writing lyrics and a good dancer. And let’s not mention the way he looks like.

Yes, he’s referring to Lee Taeyong. Of course he does. Who else.

Manager-ssi is a married man, father of two beautiful daughters and has never ever ever laid eyes upon a boy feeling carnal desire for him. Never. Not because it’s sin or any of that shit – no, simply because he’s never felt any attraction to bony legs and sharp angled faces.

But, well. Lee Taeyong.

Lee Taeyong would bring to their knees even the most conservative, homophobic asshole on this planet. He would tear out of their bigot lips a string of praise for how angelic, pretty and downright beautiful he looks.

Manager-ssi is used to that. Having to live and coexist with this attraction. He will never act on it, but he had to learn to come to terms with it, accepting it. He is well aware that the reason why he acts protectively around the boy mostly is because of guilt.

Anyway.

Lee Taeyong is pretty and Manager-ssi is used to that. He’s used to having to shield him the most from sasaengs and the horror of the internet. The prettier you are, the easier you become a target. Especially if you are rich. Especially if you are an artist. Especially if you have made a mistake as a small prepubescent kid or teenager, whatever, and there always be people who won’t miss an opportunity to bring up those mistakes. Big or small that they are.

Manager-ssi tries his best, really.

But he’s not superhuman, and the boys are young, they live with social media. The fact that Lee Taeyong doesn’t use twitter or Instagram won’t help if his attackers target him on bubble or whatever other platform.

He sighs.

He should have seen this coming.

-

Johnny and Haechan are still bent over Johnny’s phone, the incriminated tweet thread pinned in a screenshot. They exchange a look in silence. They don’t need words for this.

Haechan shakes his head and lets himself fall backwards, back on his bed.

“Shit” he comments.

Johnny nods.

He agrees.

“Taeyong won’t like this” he comments, and really, there was no need to spell it out, they both knew already.

“Shit” Haechan repeats.

Johnny nods again.

They have a show coming up soon, in less than a month. They are finishing up the choreo of some of the new songs, some steps still giving trouble to more than just one member. And now this. Right before a new round of promotions.

He sighs, dragging it out.

He really hates sasaengs. He wouldn’t know if he hates more them or haters. Maybe haters are better: at least you and them both know they don’t like you.

“Fuuuuuck” he whisper-shouts.

-

Doyoung’s phone beeps.

He sighs internally, but knows better than addressing his annoyance towards the innocent device – it’s his own fault for not turning it completely silent, while he was catching up on some readings he has already postponed way too many times. Stuff in English that he doesn’t like but has to put up with.

Still. It’s either this or checking whatever text. Or email. Or message or picture or whatever. Oh come on, anything will be better than this. Yes, he is a very diligent person, but surely he can afford the break of reading a text… that… Haechan sent him?

He frowns and thumbs the notification open.

It says: ‘don’t open internet’.

What?

Clearly, Doyoung does just that. And because Haechan texted him personally, he types in google both NCT and his own name. Of the first results coming up, some are flattering, some are old pictures, some are information on his life – and there it is, an avalanche of new articles and notifications and tweets about NCT, although, at least, none of them has Doyoung’s name.

But they have Taeyong’s.

Doyoung is too curious to resist the temptation – even if Haechan told him not to check the internet. But at this point, how can Doyoung resist? And it’s something about Taeyong. Something new that made it to the web. He hopes it’s not too bad, and opens one of the tweets. Ironically, he finds himself at the very source of the shitstorm that’s just befallen on NCT. As if someone above had wanted Doyoung to know as quickly as possible what’s going on.

The post is short and concise, but you don’t need many words to sound rude. In fact, the words ‘anorexic, cock sucking looking whore’ already have a pretty significant offending power. They are also concise enough that they offer the further advantage of leaving taking up too many characters available to post a tweet. The second part of the tweet, the one about Taeyong being a ‘fake ass plastic faced conniving bitch’ is just overdoing it.

Doyoung breathes through his nose. Again, and again.

Then he closes google, opens his contacts list and hits call.

“Doie?” Taeyong answers. He sounds happy, so he has obviously not been informed yet.

“Taeyong, please do not open any internet page. I know that if I tell you not to do it you will want to do it but don’t. Promise me you won’t”

“What? Ahhhh… Doie, is it that bad? What is it, is everyone okay? Should I worry? I’m scared now”

Doyoung breathes through his nose.

“Look, promise me you won’t do it. And come back here ASAP, okay? Where are you now?”

“Already on my way back, they didn’t have the ice cream I wanted so I have already left. But why? Is it bad? Is anyone at the hospital?”

“No, hyung. It’s just haters” Doyoung explains.

He can hear the sound of Taeyong’s steps slowing to a halt, and his deep voice murmuring swear words muffled by the face mask.

“Yeah, hyung. So don’t look, okay? We’ll have to deal with it later on, anyway. Just come up here fast” Doyoung urges.

Taeyong makes a humming sound, the one he always makes when he agrees with you and wants to say yes but without having to word it.

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes”

“Good. I’ll order dalgona coffee”

A pause.

“Shit Doyoung, now you’re really scaring me. Is it really that bad?” Taeyong asks, voice serious and worried.

Doyoung sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. He wishes he could lie but there is little point in doing so. And it’s not like his friend would not spend the entire route home getting worried sick.

“Hyung, it’s bad. But we’ve got this. Just come back”

“Is it the scamming again?” Taeyong asks, voice soft and neutral.

“No. Well… not directly, but, look. They’re shooting in the dark, okay. Just come home Taeyong, please”

“I’m hurrying” Taeyong promises, and closes the call.

-

Manager-ssi calls Johnny. Johnny answers.

The thread started with Taeyong, but it ended up involving every single member of NCT 127. At least the members of the other subunits have so far been spared, and so have the newest members. But still, it’s pretty bad.

Manager-ssi explains the person who’s started the thread was using a twitter profile under a pseudonym. Which was pretty obvious in the first place, as Johnny points out. Manager-ssi agrees. He explains that the company is working on tracking them down, anyway, but who knows how long that will take. Johnny knows this too, and so does Manager-ssi.

The problem is that the tweet that started this storm targets Taeyong in a way too explicit to be casual. This is someone touching every single button that might trigger Taeyong. Manager-ssi informs Johnny that they are considering the hypothesis behind the tweet there is someone who knows, or knew, Taeyong.

Johnny hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Manager-ssi has a point, but honestly, it wouldn’t take that extra knowledge on their leader to know he would not appreciate be called an anorexic whore. Johnny personally thinks the part that hurts the less must be the one hinting that Taeyong’s face is the result of plastic surgery.

Apparently, it’s the ‘cock sucking whore’ part that dragged in all the other members. Whether it’s because they have broadcasted too much skinship or simply because Taeyong is pretty and if they wanted to call him a whore they needed someone to whom Taeyong had to whore himself out to, it doesn’t matter. What does matter, is the fact that there is a long thread of tweets hinting that Taeyong has fucked (actually: been fucked by) most of his members.

Johnny doesn’t feel particularly relieved after reading that even haters seem to assume Johnny’s dick is big. It’s not like he could feel any joy or pride, when the way they say so is to wonder if Taeyong was able to walk after Johnny has had his way with him.

Johnny’s hands tremble. Haechan looks at him with wary eyes. Manager-ssi tells him the best thing to do next is to gather NCT 127 in a room and decide how to tackle this situation. Johnny agrees and ends the call. The sudden silence of the room is broken only by the soft sound of Doyoung puttering around in the kitchen. He’s made dalgona coffee himself.

The door slams open, startling Haechan so hard that he almost jumps off his chair. Jaehyun storms inside the fifth floor dorm, silent and with murderous eyes. He sits right in front of Johnny and pins him with a glare that Johnny knows how to interpret. Jaehyun is this close to open twitter or Instagram and scream his anger to the world, and he’s all but begging Johnny for help to keep his cool.

Johnny doesn’t blame him. Johnny was the one the haters said to have, literally, ripped Taeyong’s ass open, but Jaehyun is the one they’ve used to insinuate Taeyong makes a splendid submissive BDSM bitch.

The rest of the members join, some sitting at the big table, some on the couch, like Mark. The Canadian boy looks livid, clenching his teeth so hard Johnny can almost hear the gnawing sound they make. Next to him Yuta slips his hand into his and curls their fingers tight together. They share a glare, and Mark’s eyes soften as soon as he sees his own anger mirrored in Yuta’s eyes.

That’s right Mark, we are all pretty pissed.

Jungwoo sits close to Johnny and looks at him with big, wide eyes. Even him looks mad.

Johnny waits for them to be all seated and looks for Taeil. His only hyung in the room moves to sit at the table. There is still one place empty, between Haechan and Johnny, and they leave it for Taeyong. If he comes back safe, that is.

Johnny checks the time on his wristwatch. Doyoung said their leader would be here about now… and right on cue the door opens.

Taeyong hesitates on the threshold, looks around, and his worried face pales even more. He gulps and closes quietly the door behind himself.

“Oh wow. You’re all here. Is it really that bad?” he cringes with a forced smile.

Jaehyun joins his hands on the table, fingers intertwined and clenched madly. His dark eyes are pinned on the table, but Johnny bets he doesn’t really sees the surface.

Doyoung arrives with a tray filled to maximum capacity of tall glasses of dalgona coffee. Haechan stands quickly and hurries to take some glasses from the too full tray, before they get dropped.

Taeyong’s face falls even more when he notices the beverage being placed on the table, and passed around, one for each member. He looks frantically for Doyoung’s eyes, close to panic.

“Doie, please tell me nobody died”

Doyoung sighs, and smiles softly: “Nobody died, I swear”

“Maybe our career” Jungwoo tries to joke.

Jaehyun’s knuckles whiten.

“Oh shut up” Doyoung says, glaring, but then looks at his younger with an apologetic expression. He turns again to Taeyong and points him at the free chair, he himself sitting at Mark’s other side on the couch.

“Yongie, sit please”

Johnny pushes the chair away from the table. Taeyong warily approaches and sits. His hands nervously close around the tall glass in front of him. He looks at the drink with a bittersweet expression.

“Okay, first of all, nobody died. Nobody is hurt. This is just the usual trash haters throw at us. It… it isn’t exactly the first time we’ve heard something like this. Only, this time, they’ve been uncharacteristically… precise. And they’ve dragged all of us in in” Johnny explains.

Haechan snorts, throwing a half-formed smirk at him and Taeyong: “Hey, at least we’re in it together, you know. Team”

Taeyong snorts slightly: “How about you guys stop being so cryptic, and tell me clearly what’s going on? You're giving me a panic attack. And Jaehyun, please stop. You’re going to hurt yourself”

Jaehyun’s shoulders tense more, and his lips twist in a bitter smile.

“Well, at least I’m not hurting you. It’d be a nice change. At least according to what they say I do to you” he comments, the sickly sweet tone not doing a thing to cover up the anger behind the words.

Johnny opens his phone and looks for the tweet he’s screenshotted.

“Look, hyung. Someone wrote a nasty tweet” Haechan starts explaining: “it was about you. They must have thought about what to write for days because, seriously. I think they wrote it knowing you wouldn’t like a single word of it. And then it escalated from there”

Taeyong breathes through his nose, pushes his glass away from him and leans closer to Johnny to read from the other’s phone. The room is silent for a while, everyone looking at him, waiting. Yuta sips on the straw of his coffee. It’s good.

Breaking the tweeter’s hands would be better.

“…Oh, wow” Taeyong comments, after a while: “that’s… that’s pretty specific” he comments, voice almost breaking. He clears his throat and hides his mouth behind a fist as he does so.

“Can you.. can you show me the rest?”

Johnny does. When Taeyong starts reading the thread of tweets collapsed he stops breathing. He knows when the blond gets to the part about Johnny’s dick because he can see Taeyong’s eyebrows rise. He knows when he’s gotten to the part about Jaehyun or the kinky shit he would have allegedly done with Yuta because Taeyong’s mouth open in a little ‘oh’.

“Wow. They’re… these are really pretty specific. They’re… really, really specific” he looks up and meets Johnny’s eyes about midway through that sentence.

He doesn’t really start crying, because that’s not what Taeyong does. But he blushes, embarrassed, hurt and angry, looks down at the tweets, and Johnny can see the way his shoulders tense, as if he was trying to make himself smaller and smaller.

“I mean. I’m not sure it’s that bad for some of you guys” he tries to joke.

Wrong thing to say. Johnny grimaces and knows what’s about to happen even before it really does.

Jaehyun slams his hands on the table with the loudest bang, startling Taeyong and about half the occupants of the room. He stands so fast his chair almost falls on the floor, and he paces away, red in the face. He turns at Taeyong with eyes screaming bloody murder.

“You know what, at least shut the fuck up. The last thing I want to hear is how I should be happy that apparently there is some sicko out there that thinks I do kinky shit to you, and that I enjoy hurting you”

Taeyong’s teeth worry the side of his cheek. Johnny tries to make eye contact with him, widens his eyes as if to say, don’t make a joke.

Taeyong gets it. He looks away and sits back against the chair. His hands close against around the glass and start spinning it. He plays with the straw and looks tempted to lean over and take a sip, but he’s glued with his back to the chair.

He licks his lips and swallows a couple of times. Then he looks around, the blush on his cheeks turning into anger induced pallor.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

“Manager-ssi called. He said the company is working on trying to find the tweeter, probably they’ll sue. He said they think this might be someone who knows you”

Taeyong snorts: “I don’t think so. Anyone who looks at me or knows me a little bit would know those are great insults to throw my way. I mean, do you think I’ve never heard them before? Come on”

Johnny nods. Fair enough, that was his own opinion, after all.

“What worried Manager-ssi, if I haven’t misunderstood” Doyoung says, stepping in: “is that this time they’ve, first, viciously targeted you, and then moved on to each one of us. And some of the things mentioned were a little bit too specific. So it’s probably someone who follows us. Even some of the nastier comments… those are people who follows our V-lives. It’s definitely sasaengs”

“Which means we would have legal grounds against them” Haechan says, more explicitly.

“Man, I don’t even care!” Mark exclaims in English: “what the fuck?! Have you read some of the shit they’ve thrown at us?? Do they really think I would… and that you would… and half of us, too! What the fuck!! This is sick shit, man!!”

Yuta puts his glass down and grabs both Mark’s hands: “Mark, Markie. Calm down. We’re all mad. If you lose it, then we all lose it. And we can’t afford that”

“Unfortunately too true” Johnny agrees, in English: “although, I guess we all fucking agree with you there, Mark. I don’t think any of us can be happy about… any of the shit that was said”

Taeyong snorts loudly, attracting everyone’s attention. He grabs his glass, puts the straw in his mouth and takes a long sip, eyes closed. He even moans at the taste.

“Damn, Doie, this is really good” he compliments, smiling at Doyoung in a way that everyone knows is forced, but nobody has actually the gut, or the energy, to call him out on it.

Jaehyun sighs, and goes back to his chair, collapsing on it.

“What the fuck do we do now?” he asks.

“With a concert so close, and a round of promotion starting in less than a month” Jungwoo says.

“I mean, it could also give us the space to respond, actually. We could use one of those promotions to say how mad we are that this happened. The fans would make an uproar, for sure” Doyoung points out.

Johnny nods: “I mean, it’s not like us, personally, we can make anything about it. I don’t think the company will ask us to make a statement or whatever”

Taeyong snorts through the straw and cocks an eyebrow: “And what would we say? That I haven’t slept with any of you? That Jaehyun isn’t into BDSM and Yuta is not into kinky shit?”

“No hyung, I am into kinky shit, just not with you” Yuta points out, and it makes some of them laugh quietly, lightening up the mood a little bit.

“Well, I am not into pain, anyway, no matter who I am screwing” Jaehyun replies.

Yuta shrugs as if to say, fair enough.

Mark shakes his head, but he doesn’t start ranting again, instead he grabs a hold on his glass, if a little bit too impetuously, and sips on his coffee. He hums and makes a face.

“Oh, wow, hyung, this is really good”

“See?” Taeyong asks, looking at Doyoung with a pointed expression, a smirk and a raised eyebrow. He cradles his glass to his chest and takes a sip: “I told you it’d be good”

Doyoung’s only reply is to roll his eyes.

-

Once it’s happened, there is little the members can do. The company promises they’ll find the real person behind the first tweet, sure, but these things take time, and their next concert is literally behind the corner, chronologically speaking. They release a comment on the official NCT page on the main social media where they express that yes, they are angry for the false accusations and plain insults they have received but they’d rather focus more on how the reactions of the fans, who have declared war to NCT haters on most platforms.

Still. It hurts.

If you are the guy who got called a whore, a slut, a fake bitch, the product of too much plastic surgery and you’ve been blamed for being at the same time anorexic and too fat. If you’re the one people said they wished to see raped and brutally gangbanged, and not even less than tortured.

It hurts.

Taeyong looks at himself in the mirror and struggles to swallow. He’s wearing clothes but feels naked. He’s wearing as usually a pristine, nicely matching outfit and he feels at the same time naked and overdressed. He feels ridiculous. He feels ugly, fat, too thin, skeletal. He looks at his face and only sees the things he doesn’t like. He looks at his body and – yeah, better not to look, period.

But it’s worse than this.

It’s not just no longer feeling welcome and comfortable in his own body and skin. It becomes also no longer feeling well and comfortable around the other members.

Because. After reading those nasty things, he can’t help thinking that maybe, maybe, there might be a little bit of truth, however tiny. So he sits a bit farther from Jaehyun. Tries not to remain alone with Yuta. Sits as far away as possible from Johnny. Refuses to eat anything that might have a vaguely phallic shape in front of Doyoung or Haechan. And he sure as hell does not look at Mark’s hands.

The truth is, he is ashamed. Of himself. For believing even that tiny bit to the words of haters and sickos.

He turns away from the mirror, takes off the Chanel shirt and ditches it for a bland, black t-shirt, not too lose but not revealingly fitting. He changes the skinny jeans and swaps them with joggers. The guys won’t notice, he tells himself. They have practice, and sure, Taeyong often practiced and recorded dance choreos in jeans and boots, but, it’s not like it’d be the first time he does the same wearing sport clothes.

He heads to the practice room and tries to greet his member as warmly as he’s ever done.

Of course he doesn’t manage.

Of course they notice.


	4. Moths

JAEHYUN

The truth is that Jaehyun doesn’t just hate the haters and the sasaengs and the unknown tweeter. He hates himself too, at least a little bit. Ha hates his own mind for giving in to temptation and making him wonder.

Because once he’s read about the nasty things he might, potentially do with, on and to his leader’s body, well. The thought is there. It gets a hold on him and doesn’t leave. It just doesn’t go away, and it drives Jaehyun mad. Whenever he looks at Taeyong’s hands. At his fingers. At his face. At his mouth. Whenever Taeyong laughs and – god damn, whenever the pink tip of his tongue darts over that plump, bottom lip.

Jaehyun can’t help himself, and he can’t stop.

He knows Taeyong knows. His elder is not an idiot – he might be obtuse when it comes to some things, but he is very well receptive when it’s about picking up on the reaction his looks have on people. Jaehyun knows Taeyong notices whenever he’s looked for a few seconds longer than usual. Or when Jaehyun’s eyes linger in places where they have never bothered before.

It drives them apart in a way that Jaehyun can’t help and can’t stop. They’ve never been the best of friends – nobody has ever managed to reach that close to Taeyong’s inner layer but Doyoung, but even so, Jaehyun has always been sure they were at least friends. If only because they work with one another literally every day and have done so for the past few years. Jaehyun and Taeyong were already together when NCT started together four years ago, and yes, they might be two drama queens and two attention whores and Jaehyun will never admit not even to himself but yes, he could never forgive Taeyong for being more handsome than himself.

But. Regardless, all these minor things aside (they are not minor. Jaehyun’s looks are Jaehyun’s pride and it’s taken him a long, long time before he’s learned to make peace with the fact that Taeyong will always be prettier than him). Jaehyun has seen his elder grow into a good leader and has learned how to be friends with him. He likes working with him. He likes when they practice together, and he likes when they have fun together. 

He does not like that he now catches himself from thinking about pushing Taeyong against a wall and hearing whatever gasping noise he makes. About kissing him, about the way he tastes. About carding a finger through his hair. About watching the elder’s pupils dilate as Jaehyun grinds his tight between Taeyong’s legs.

Jaehyun takes a sharp breath and shakes his head, pushing the thoughts away. He will not go further down that path in the gym – he will not, he fucking hell will not pop a boner this close to Johnny.

He grinds his teeth together and pulls harder at the machine.

Johnny throws him a glance but looks quickly away, being too focused on his own fatigue to spare Jaehyun much attention after checking that he’s not in pain.

Thank god, Jaehyun thinks.

At least he is still sure that he would never enjoy, let alone get off on the sight of Taeyong crying in pain.

-

HAECHAN

Haechan knows sasaengs, stalkers, haters, and a good chunk of their own fans are detrimental to his health. Which is why he mostly ignores them. He takes up on checking their opinion, their comments, their reaction to whatever he’s posted – all that, he does it only when he feels emotionally stable, strong and self-confident enough.

He needs to keep an eye on the opinion the fans have of him and the rest of NCT, whatever subunit you consider, but he knows that he needs to approach that throbbing black hole of madness with a clear mind and the lucidity of a serial killer.

He is young, but not an idiot. He is an idol: he needs his fans, but he just as well needs to not pay the internet too much attention. He has learned to ignore most of the nasty comments and not count too much on the good ones – the favor of the masses on the internet is just too fleeting and never last too long. You have to stoke the fire if you want to keep warm.

Also, most of the times the fire burns you, so you better develop some good fire-resisting ability. Fire metaphor aside, this is to say, Haechan cannot believe he wastes time thinking about that fucking tweet.

Yes, the one about Taeyong.

Yes, the one that said Taeyong is an anorexic, look pretty because it’s the result of too much surgery, and, most importantly, is the whore all the other 127 members fuck.

Haechan sighs, letting his head fall forward. It hits the window with a soft thud. His forehead absorbs the cold pretty quickly and it bothers him, but he doesn’t move away from it. The cold grounds him. Better thinking about how the cold window must be freezing his brain than thinking nasty things he’s never, ever thought.

Like how supposedly sinfully good Taeyong would look, on his knees and with his mouth stuffed with dick. Like how supposedly amazing he looks with his eyes rolled back and tears streaming down his cheeks as he suffocates with a dick pushed down his throat.

Haechan swallows.

Then he sighs, shakes his head, and, eyes still closed, bangs his forehead against the window another time. It doesn’t work. The thought is still there. It must be the sexual frustration he accumulates with this job – one would think idols fuck more, Jesus. Well, they don’t, at least not right before a comeback and promotions tour and all the consequent ordeal.

Fuck, he thinks. He opens his eyes but doesn’t really focus on what’s outside.

He knows Taeyong looks pretty. Actually, he thinks Taeyong looks hot. Like, sure, he’s got a feminine, delicate face, but, did you see that jaw? Did you see those shoulders? And yes, he’s thin and he looks fragile and like if you push him to the floor he’d shatter in a million pieces but, actually, Taeyong is really strong. He is all sinewy lines, lithe, compact limbs and sparkling eyes.

Sometimes Haechan feels guilty for the way he can’t help staring at Taeyong’s long fingers. And that was before the tweet, before reading all the nasty shit Taeyong could do with those elegant, strong hands.

He shakes his head, his forehead twisting uncomfortably against the glass and thinks, shit.

How the fuck is he supposed to look his elder in the eyes, when all he seems to be able to think is how badly he wants him on his knees, smart mouth working on his dick?

He closes his eyes again.

You are truly fucked, Lee Donghyuck, whispers a voice in his brain, one that sounds suspiciously like Mark Lee.

-

MARK

Mark strums the chords of his guitar again. He hasn’t played in ages. He does it mostly to destress or create new songs. These days, there isn’t much need for new songs, as they have a comeback to work on, one with songs already nice and ready, a shit ton of choreographies to memorize, and no creativity required in the next… two weeks at least.

And yet here he is, guitar strumming at 2AM in the morning in the first empty room he could find, where he could play his fucking, beloved instrument (and no, it’s not a metaphor for masturbation) without bothering anyone else.

NCT and SuperM rapper Lee Minhyung AKA Mark Lee strums his guitar at 2AM in an empty room to destress. To destress and to not think again about the topic that has almost obsessively occupied his mind these last forty hours. That topic being the fucking tweet, and the slew of nasty comments that threaded under it.

He closes his eyes and sighs. He tries plucking at the chords again in the fervent, mad and vain hope that something will come out of it and rescue him, distracting from this madness. From this fucking abyss which he has promised himself he wouldn’t fall in and yet, here is, still tumbling down the rabbit hole.

He’s pretty sure the same applies to most of the other members, but that doesn’t do much to help. If only, it’s just further wood on the fire of his shame. For leaving Taeyong alone, to fend for himself against the storm.

Now, don’t get him wrong. Taeyong hyung looks like a drama queen and a crybaby and you might think that he’s the easiest one to break, what with him having publicly lost it at their first MAMA and in general not being too shy not to cry on camera. But, Mark knows him, okay. And believe him, hyung is a motherfucker. He’s much more tough than you’d believe.

Which is why Mark cannot, really can not understand how people would do that to him. Not just imagining him in all these degrading, humiliating and frankly psychotic situations, but even writing about it. Like, Mark would get fans having a sick fantasy or two – the man surely is hot enough to feed those, yes, but. Writing it? On social media? And not feeling the littlest bit ashamed for that? People actually goading each other on to escalate it further, in a crescendo of sick, twisted description of what NCT members could do to their leader?

Yeah, Mark is mad.

He’s also ashamed, and in the peace and quiet, and most of all, in the accepting, not-judging solitude of just himself in the room, he can admit that yes. Some of those pathetic, disgusting, cheeks-burning things… were hot. Only one or two. But still.

Mark shakes his head. He wonders if he can shake it so much that the rattling of his brain will cover up his guilty thoughts.

He doesn’t want to think about Taeyong like that. Taeyong is his leader, his hyung and honest to god one of his best friends. Taeyong is the older brother Mark would like to have. He is the only one who can understand him. Mark thinks again about what he said that time during that interview session – him and Taeyong making eye contact over their crazy busy schedules and looking at each other like, you gotta help me man, we gotta help each other.

Taeyong has always been there for Mark and Mark has always done his best to be there for Taeyong. And when he realizes he couldn’t do much, he’s made sure to bring in Doyoung – because there are things that only Doyoung can solve, sides of Taeyong that the leader accepts to show only to him.

And that’s fine with Mark. Mark isn’t jealous – he would, if it was anyone else, but, Doyoung… Nope.

Plus he knows that Taeyong’s second favorite is Mark himself.

He sighs, leaning down so much he almost touches the guitar with his head.

Taeyong is his best friend. Taeyong is like a brother to him.

Taeyong would never kiss him, would never grind on him until Mark comes and would never, ever, ever in a million years ask Mark to fuck him.

Mark knows this very well.

Mark does not want any of it, anyway.

Except Mark is lying, and it’s the one thing he can’t stop thinking about.

-

YUTA

Beautiful people are sort of a given when you work in this industry. Beautiful, stupidly attractive people that make other people’s heads turn whenever they walk by. Yuta is used to it. It doesn’t mean he’s grown immune to beauty, no, but he’s learned not to pop a boner whenever a very attractive girl passes him in the hallway, or when a particularly handsome boy looks his way.

He’s had to train his body to keep his cool, as a sort of defense mechanism, since his days as a trainee.

Especially since after meeting some of the people he’s ended up working with.

Not just Taeyong, though. Yuta has always had a wandering eye, even in Japan. Boys, girls, that has never mattered to him. Beauty is beauty. He doesn’t care what’s between the legs of a person: that has little to do with how beautiful you are, or aren’t. Sure, he’s learned pretty fast that most boys did not go around broadcasting how much they liked other boys – so he kept quiet. But he’s always watched.

Since ever coming to Seoul he’s kind of stopped bothering though. He makes comments whenever he feels like – mask them up as jokes, especially if he knows that some people wouldn’t like being the object of compliments coming from another guy. Like Mark. You can’t tell Mark he’s pretty, he won’t take you for serious. Or you’ll just make him very uncomfortable. Or Winwin. Winwinnie will just ignore you. But that’s Winwinnie for you. He’s an ice prince.

And then there’s Taeyong. Taeyong sometimes looks like an ice prince, but he’s the dorkiest dork Yuta has ever seen. There was a guy in primary school with him that Taeyong sometimes reminds him of. Only Taeyong is dorkier. Inexplicably, he’s also an idol. Yuta would have never believed those two could actually coexist, and yet here is Lee Taeyong, everybody.

Now, Yuta has learned to ignore beauty, when it’s in the form of Lee Taeyong. The fact that the boy acts like an idiot and a geek and an adorable dork helps. You sort of forget how painfully attractive Taeyong is, when he wears thick black-rimed glasses or bucket hats that cover his face or baggy clothes or whatever else.

But then they would have a photoshoot and bam! Yuta would be reminded of just how really beautiful Taeyong is. Hit like a truck by that jaw, by those eyes. Fans say that Yuta has a dazzling smile – Yuta himself agrees, but, people, you have never had Lee Taeyong smiling at you with sparkling eyes, at barely thirty centimeters from you.

Yuta is a young boy, okay. A young boy with hot blood, a sensual streak the size of the Amazon river and close to zero chance to fuck. If you put him to live in a dorm with Lee Taeyong, well, he’s bound to think of Taeyong soon or later when he’s in the shower, okay. Or when he has quality time and it’s just him and his own hand.

Taeyong has the longest, most delicate and yet strong fingers Yuta has ever seen and it’s not Yuta’s fault if he wants to suck them and wants to see them wrapped around his cock. Or around Taeyong’s own. Or slipping inside Taeyong while the boy gets ready for Yuta. Or whoever else – Yuta doesn’t mind sharing, contrary to belief. Not if it’d be Taeyong.

Anyway. The problem is.

He knows how to handle his fantasies and he’s not ashamed of them. They’re fantasies and he knows everyone has them. Even the people who feels the most uncomfortable acknowledging having them. Like Mark, Yuta presumes. Anyway.

The problem is not ignoring fantasies, and definitely it isn’t about any shame of sort he’d feel for having them. No no, absolutely. He nurtures and cherishes them. Changes them from time to time. According to what Taeyong does, for example.

But. The tweet? That tweet messed up Yuta’s cool demeanor. Because know Taeyong suspects, even knows, that Yuta sometimes gets off thinking about him. And don’t get him wrong, Yuta gets off on a wide variety of things, Winwin and Haechan included – he’d never tell them but this is the truth, people.

The thing is, now Taeyong feels uncomfortable around him, and Yuta can’t do anything about it. He’d do anything to have his leader and fellow band member trust him like before, but the camaraderie is broken.

He knows Taeyong has grown wary of them all. And all because of that fucking tweet.

Now, contrary to belief, Yuta isn’t vindictive.

It’s just that he wants to break every single bones of the hands of whoever tweeted that fucking tweet, with a baseball bat. And iron baseball bat. Until the bones are shattered into dust.

That’s not vindictive. That’s your normal, healthy amount of anger.

Yuta is going to break the nose of whoever will contradict them.

-

TAEIL

So, listen up. Taeil is the eldest here. Not the leader – thank goodness, but the eldest. 

He’s been told all his life that he should pursue a career as an idol and twice he’s changed his mind. He’s waved bye bye to fame and glory twice, and only the third time has decided he would not give up and actually undertake that path.

That is to say, Taeil is a cool guy. He likes life simple and easy. No drama. That’s why he likes being the eldest hyung and absolutely does not envy Taeyong for being the leader. He’s the silent guy, the quiet one, who just enjoys the ride and loves every single one of his members like an old uncle would with his nephews – which means, being very happy when they are around, and being even happier that they’re not his responsibility.

He doesn’t envy Taeyong. But he admires him.

Taeil is good at dancing – has, in fact, always been. And at singing. Taeyong came out of nothing, with little to no skills and look at him now. He’s shining brighter than a fucking star. He’s amazing and really, Taeil wishes him the best. He likes working with him. He likes that he can be serious and that he’s a dork. That they can be chill together and awkward.

And yes. Taeyong is pretty. Taeil admires him, sure. But he also finds it really hard to resist the captivating side of him. He wonders if Taeyong is really aware to what extent the allure he has on people goes, if he knows just how far he could push.

Taeyong is a siren, a beacon of light and the world is populated by moths. Taeil himself sometimes feels like fire, attracting people with his singing, and sometimes he’s just another moth, being drawn to Taeyong’s light.

The thing is, Taeyong can be loud, and Taeil would laugh, watching him make a fool of himself, along with many other members. But more often than not, Taeyong would be quiet, and would snuggle close to him and goof around and be awkward together. Sometimes Taeyong wants to be understood, and Taeil is good at understanding. At leaving him simply be.

That tweet is… it’s a low blow. Taeil wants to comfort Taeyong, but he doesn’t know how. He wants to reach out to him, hug him, tell him, let’s be idiots together again. But Taeyong now can’t go back to that. He won’t loosen up. The tweet was a bunch of bullshit, but it worked. It ruined the chemistry NCT 127 had. Taeyong just can’t go back to himself. He’s busy worrying about things Taeil isn’t even sure Taeyong himself is aware of. He wonders how deep those fears have reached into Taeyong’s subconscious. And those fears are worse than a fog.

Fears that he isn’t even fully aware of keep Taeyong from shining of his usual light. The tweet hasn’t turned Taeyong into a moth, it has simply put out most of the light Taeyong emitted. And now it’s like the fans, the haters, the sasaengs, even SM and every NCT 127 member – everyone is crowding what little light is left.

Taeil knows what’s going to happen. They’re going to kill the remaining fire. He doesn’t know how but he suspects that, if they don’t resuscitate their old chemistry, Taeyong will just… wither away, like a beautiful flower.

Burnt.

He sighs. He wants to hug Taeyong, comfort him. Yes, maybe even kiss him – whatever. He just wants things to go back as before.

God, he fucking knew life as an idol would be full of useless drama. And now he’s even too emotionally invested to try and just not give a damn.

-

JUNGWOO

It has been by now rendered clear that the masses consider Jungwoo a sort of asexual idiot. 

He doesn't mind.

Well, not like that - of course he fucking minds. But, it could be better. He does Aegyo, he aces it, brings everyone to their knees but, people, do you really think Jungwoo would have come this far if he was just a pretty face, an innocent soul and a dumb fucking idiot? Come on. Give him some credit.

Of all his members he might be the only one who actually understands the logic behind the tweet. 

Taeyong is handsome, sure, but, he is just as uncomfortable acknowledging it. Therefore, a good way to hurt him would be to hyper underline his prettyness. If the intent is hurting him, you'd have to stress as much as you can that his looks are the only things he has. What better way than calling him the team's fucktoy? Really, it makes so much sense.

The tweeter is clearly someone after Taeyong's happiness, and did not stop at objectifying him for his looks. For his being handsome. They went farther and called Taeyong an anorexic. Which honestly, that could apply to most of the idols Jungwoo knows. Not because they might, effectively, have eating disorders. Simply because, it's an industry that relies so heavily on appearances, and at the same time discriminates everyone who falls into the trap of eating disorders. Of mental issues, in general. 

Jungwoo understands why the tweet called Taeyong - beautiful, talented, creative Lee Taeyong an anorexic fucktoy. He does. It's envy. And maybe more, but, honestly, Jungwoo wouldn't be surprised if it turns out envy and bitterness were the main reasons behind this attack.

He would be a liar, if he said he is able to ignore the tweet entirely. Which further proves the success of the tweet. 

It has destroyed Taeyong, his self-confidence, his relationship with the rest of the band. It has isolated him. Jungwoo doesn't know what to do to help, and knows that he's one of the few who might do something, being one of the members less mentioned in the comments. 

Apparently, Jungwoo's innocent, naive looks have spared him from the brunt of the shitstorm, people not really able to picture him in a dominating position, one where he, say, facefucks Taeyong like they said Jaehyun or Johnny would do so well.

Oh, that couldn't be more wrong. Jungwoo would love to do that. He would love to spend hours hearing Taeyong moaning and sighing in pleasure. 

You know what, Jungwoo in fact has a problem, a fascination of sort. And it's with Taeyong's mouth. He really, really would love to know how it feels to kiss that mouth. To learn its every crevice and nook. To taste him and tongue fuck him.

But you know what, it's a tad difficult to even peck on the cheek the guy you want to kiss into unconsciousness, if he's currently avoiding you, and the rest of the members, on the ground of some irrational fear that an unknown person has triggered into him.

Jungwoo frowns to himself.

Oh, he'd like to smash that tweeter so bad. Like, so, so, so bad. 

Maybe he should ask Yuta hyung for advice?

-

JOHNNY

The thing about Johnny is that ever since he’s hit his growth spurt he’s always been considered tougher than he actually is. That made him automatically one of the cool kids, which, great, but at the same time gave him a sort of title that he hadn’t gained, but he still had to maintain. Without even knowing how the fuck he was supposed to maintain something he hadn’t worked on getting for himself.

Anyway. He’s learned quickly that working out and spending hours in the gym helped. It made his body more desirable. He’s learned dance, he invested energies in getting a hot body. Now he’s the tall, hot looking, English speaking member of NCT. Sure, there’s plenty of other members who are hot. Or English speakers – although only Mark is as proficient as Johnny, sorry Jaehyun. But. Only Johnny scores the three together.

Fine, his voice is cool, but not exactly the greatest. It lacks energy. It pales, in comparison with Haechan’s or Taeil’s hyung. And he’s not good at rapping. But he’s the tall, hot guy, and the company loves him. He’s never wanted to be the most famous idol of his time – just an idol. One of the many. Up in the pantheon, not necessarily the best of them.

He considers himself happy as he is. Knowing that he can improve continuously is a plus. But even so, he would say that he is happy.

Even without touching the whole fucking mess that is the topic of his sexuality.

His parents… yeah. They probably would not like that. Or they might not care – it depends, really, but Johnny has a feeling that while they’ve learned to put up with his dream of becoming an idol, they wouldn’t be that ready to accept him coming out as gay.

He doesn’t even know if he is, okay. It’s complicated. He thinks he’s bi, but, these things are not that easy to discern. To make a pun of it – it’s not as straightforward as you’d assume. He likes girls, after all. And Ten. And Taeyong. Maybe a little bit Jaehyun too, but, not sure.

God, Ten. Ten is what you would normally define as the son of the devil. Truly hellish spawn. The product of too much confidence in a mind that’s just twisted. Seriously, Johnny adores him. Ten isn’t afraid of anything. He would tease him and flirt with him even on camera and Johnny loves that, adores this flirtatious relationship they have going on. Johnny is often the buffoon of NCT and he loves playing that part with Ten. With Haechan too, yes, but, with Haechannie it’s absolutely de-sexualized. The boy is pretty, yes, but, look, he’s five years younger, okay.

So, Ten, mostly. Jaehyun, extremely rarely. They keep him company during his jerking off sessions.

You might have noticed a name is missing. Good spirit of observation. And now he’s thinking as if he was live on a JCC – good god, Johnny, are you fucking going crazy.

You know what, he might be. Yes, finally. Let’s embrace madness. Yes. It’d made much more sense than admitting he’s got a bad crush on his band leader and good friend, Lee Taeyong.

Uh, boy, but Taeyong is pretty.

And thin.

And fucking perfect.

Johnny has wanted to push him against the wall and kiss him stupid since the first time they’ve met. Seriously, the guy was bowing to him – Johnny literally just then finding out the pleasure of being a hyung of attractive people, and there Johnny was, standing with a stupid look on his face, thinking about pushing that pretty boy against the wall and hoist him up from the floor.

God, had he looked stupid. But it doesn’t matter. They’re friends now. Taeyong has seen worse from him and Johnny himself has seen worse – way worse, from Taeyong. You learn fast that Taeyong looks like a god but is actually a nerd. Which means that he knows a lot of things you wouldn’t expect an idol to know (that nectar thing?), but at the same time, uhhh, can this boy be awkward.

Anyway. Johnny doesn’t really care. Taeyong can be as awkward as he wants, and Johnny would still love to push him against a wall. Or a mattress. Or the couch. Trap him under his body, possibly with his long, slim legs splayed wide open. Grind down against him, feel him harden up. Hear him sigh and moan. Hear him call Johnny’s name with that toes-curling deep voice of his.

God, but Johnny has it bad.

There have been so many masturbation session where Taeyong has starred alone from the start to the very end, no other help required from the vast repertoire of Johnny’s spank bank. He lost count.

Johnny used to take it slow. He used to only think of kissing Taeyong, maybe grinding on him, getting both of them off. But it escalated quickly, and now it’s always Johnny beating it with the mental image of Taeyong on his knees, face a mess, as Johnny fucks his throat. Or Taeyong fingering himself open, long fingers deep inside down to the knuckles, right before taking Johnny up his ass. His pretty, little, boney ass that inexplicably Johnny can’t stop dreaming of.

Johnny sighs, braces himself with his hands splayed at the side of the sink.

Thank god he’s alone in the bathroom. Thank god Haechan is sleeping in the room, because now Johnny has the worst case of raging, Taeyong induced boner.

God.

He lets his head fall frontward, hanging between his shoulders.

It was already difficult without that fucking tweet.

It was already difficult to restrain himself, sometimes, without the tweet.

Whenever Taeyong was drunk and leaned too close. Whenever he’d look just as devious and flirty as Ten – and Johnny will never know just how aware Taeyong was of being that flirty and almost explicit with Johnny (probably never).

The little jokes of NCT, Taeyong being mom and Johnny being dad, and Johnny dying to take the joke for serious at least once and drag Taeyong away, flippantly dropping a comment about making good use of their marital vows. Carrying him on his shoulder, fireman style.

Seriously, Johnny didn’t need the internet to speculate about how good Taeyong would look, split open by Johnny’s dick. Johnny knows there’s already plenty of fanfictions that venture in that direction, but he didn’t want the twitter to do the same.

He didn’t need haters asking him how big his dick is and if he thinks Taeyong would need stitches if Johnny fucks him rough. He didn’t need the mental image of Taeyong gaping open, skin reddened by the harsh treatment. He doesn’t need haters to ask him if he doesn’t agree that Taeyong would look good, naked and covered in cum, both his own and Johnny’s, with tears dried on pink cheeks.

He… he really didn’t need all this.

He had it all fucking under control. He could be a good hyung to Taeyong, help him out with the rest of the guys, fucking drag him out of terribly embarrassing situations (like the whiplash and sister incident) and then jerk off to the thought of Taeyong riding him on the dorm couch.

But now? Now Taeyong knows.

Well. It’s not like he knows for certain that half the things that have been tweeted in that thread, Johnny really thinks them. Especially the ones where Taeyong isn’t in pain. But.

Now Taeyong is stiff whenever he stands close to Johnny, doesn’t want to be alone in a room with him, wouldn’t look at Johnny in the eyes sometimes, and Johnny is this close to lose it. He is afraid he might really push him against a wall, but not to kiss him, just to hold him close, hug him and swear him he’d never hurt him.

But Johnny can’t do that either.

It’s a stalemate, really. He can’t approach Taeyong to make sure things go back as they were and Taeyong won’t get close enough to give him the chance.

It’s fucked, is what is.

-

DOYOUNG

Doyoung is not an idiot.

He is aware that most people assume celebrities are stupid, but really, he is not. He is an idol, yes, but with a very well-functioning brain. He is smart, he is intelligent and well educated.

He is also fairly good at reading people, and knows that he is one of the very, very few people on this planet that Taeyong confides in.

His eyes fall on the Cartier ring. He spins it between his hand and thinks.

That tweet has stricken too close. That tweet has brought up things that most of the members would have never wanted to acknowledge. And it has forced them all to face them, casting too much light to let the boys go on ignoring them.

The problem is that, it hasn’t just forced the members to come to terms with their attraction to their one and only leader, Lee Taeyong. It has also forced Taeyong to realize the attraction they feel for him.

Doyoung frowns at the ring, spinning it slower. He wouldn’t want it to fall and lose it.

The thing is, Taeyong is insanely handsome. He’s a good person too, and sometimes people forget to go past the outer layer of that beautiful appearance. Doyoung has been lucky: he is one of the few elected people who have managed to see through the wrapping and realized that the gift inside is even prettier than what’s outside.

Doyoung has won Taeyong’s trust, his friendship, and the relationship they’ve built is simply beautiful. The attraction is always there – Taeyong will always be prettier than the average people Doyoung will encounter in life, therefore he will always exercise a sort of gravitational pull over Doyoung. If Taeyong is the sun then Doyoung is any of the planets – maybe Mercury, because it’s the closest. If Taeyong is Earth then Doyoung is the moon.

For some mysterious reason Taeyong cherishes Doyoung just as much as Doyoung treasures his relationship with his hyung. Doyoung wouldn’t be able to say why, what he has done to tie Taeyong, beautiful, good-hearted Taeyong to him. And yet he is so happy that it has happened because he would never, ever ever give him up.

It hurts enough already whenever Taeyong gushes about other people – like Baekhyun hyung, yes. But Doyoung only half-pretends to be jealous because he knows that Baekhyun hyung is harmless, to his relationship with Taeyong.

And he knows better than doubting the strength of his own bond with Taeyong. 

But, back to the attraction.

Doyoung isn’t the most sensual member of NCT, but still, he has a body filled with testosterone, just like anyone else. The tenderness of his friendship with Taeyong has sort of stripped their relationship of any trace of carnal attraction, leaving it platonic, pure. Or, well. Maybe not entirely, but, let’s say… seventy-five percent so. The remaining quarter is physically not possible.

Taeyong is comfortable around him.

After the tweet, Taeyong changes. He isn’t comfortable around the members anymore. Worst of all, he isn’t comfortable with himself. Even worse, even the strong, pure bond he shares with Doyoung seems to crack.

Taeyong never avoids Doyoung, which instead does with other members, but still, they fight more, always about stupid things, and sometimes instead of fighting for petty things they just… end up scowling in silence. The fights turn nasty, is what Doyoung means.

And he can see that Taeyong is getting tired. Whatever worries him is consuming him. Might it be the effect this tweet will have on their fame, or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t like the idea of becoming the target of yet more hate from the web.

Or maybe it’s something else, something Doyoung is slowly more and more afraid of, something that they would never, ever be able to address properly and therefore it would be impossible to mend.

Doyoung is afraid that Taeyong is starting to be afraid of them. Doyoung is afraid that Taeyong, even without being fully aware of it, has started believing some of the comments.

Doyoung closes his eyes, the ring cased protectively between the palms of his hands.

He wants it back, their friendship, the good mood between the members, the jokes and the stupid comments and the carefreeness.

Their life is complicated enough, they don’t need this shit.

How can he solve this? How can he help Taeyong?

And more importantly: does Taeyong really think Doyoung, or any other member for that matter, have really not realized that he’s eating less, sleeping less, looks more stressed, practice too much?

How long till he will fucking break?

Doyoung swear softly under his breath.

He just wishes he’ll be able to pick up the pieces, when Taeyong will indeed, inevitably, break.


	5. Candles flickering

None of these songs is new. The members are all familiar with every step of the choreographies, the lyrics, the melodies. There are parts that worry some of them, like that and that one solo part – the vocalists always worry about their individual, high parts. Still, they are professional and the team can hold its ground, there is no need for extra worrying.

Of course, if you have a concert, a new round of promotions and a big scandal still raging – that might make you nervous. Doyoung is pretty sure they can all be excused for looking anxious and nervous, and if they lash out and are even a slightly bit ruder than normal, they can be forgiven. 

No really, they should be forgiven. You try the life of an idol, be on the verge of a concert and promotions and having to deal with several, very high-pitched solos and be calm. Oh, and let’s not forget the team being a mess, with one of the mood setters, Johnny, being completely out of the game thanks to what happened with the tweet. And their second mood setter, Haechan, being stretched thin between his own workload and the additional weight deriving from the awareness of being the only member left that can help everyone relaxing – but he still has his own solos to hone, to tune to perfection, and anyway, it’s not like he wasn’t involved in the tweet mess as well.

Doyoung is tired. Every bone and muscle in his body aches and he wants to sleep twenty hours straight, no interruption. Rather than doing never ending rehearsals. Rather than having to take care of the members, at least those who have turned into emotional messes and can’t seem to remember to eat, drink, sleep.

Yes, he’s used to do that with Taeyong – but usually, it is just Taeyong. And admittedly, as much as Doyoung often (always) makes fun of Taeyong saying he can’t look after himself, that’s not really the truth, okay. Taeyong is good at taking care of himself. Doyoung just needs to remind him once or twice, from time to time. Bringing Taeyong food or a glass of water or telling him hyung go the fuck to sleep is one thing. It’s completely different from having to almost force feed him, because he almost systematically skips half his meals, too focused on practicing.

And you know what, if you have to be sneaky about it, if you need Taeyong not to realize that you’re looking after him like you’d normally do – that’s just further stress that Doyoung doesn’t fucking need.

He shakes his head and feels like pulling his hair off his head.

What the fuck. How have they let this situation escalate, deteriorate to this messy nightmare?

Yesterday they got home after a long, exhausting day of too many hours spent practicing, Doyoung had just barely started considering cooking for the team rather than ordering food. Not that he’d wanted to, he was way too tired, but him cooking usually means some of the members would join him and help, which means they would spend time together, and if Doyoung cooking means having the team sticking together at least a little bit more then Doyoung would do it.

He doesn’t know what happened but one moment there he was, pondering what to cook, and the next a very angry Jaehyun stormed out of their living room on the fifth floor, slamming the door after himself so hard Doyoung had been worried it coming off its hinges.

Doyoung doesn’t know when Jaehyun has come back. Taeil told him it was late. And guess what, you don’t need much after one dramatic departure to spoil the mood and kill it entirely – everyone ate in their room. On the one hand, good, Doyoung didn’t have to cook. On the other hand, bad, bad, terribly bad, because everyone cooped up in their room meant shit team feeling.

Doyoung ended up alone in his room and spent too many hours staring at the ceiling. Trying to think of reasons why normally calm Jaehyun would storm out of the apartment like that. Taeyong had locked himself in his own room shortly before Jaehyun’s scene, and Doyoung has a slight suspicion the two things might be related.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s spoken with Johnny and he’s gotten nothing from him. Usually, Johnny has good ideas on how they can improve the mood of their members, on hyping them on the feeling of belonging to the team. Not this time. Doyoung has turned to Taeil, if only because he’s the eldest, and he and Jungwoo are the only ones who have been involved slightly less in the tweet shitstorm. Taeil has said, it’ll go away, Doyoung, just wait.

Doyoung… well. Let’s say that he doesn’t share this optimistic attitude. He understands Taeil’s point – there is little that they can do, and if Taeyong doesn’t snap out of the state he’s fallen into, then there will be no improving, no leaving this situation. And Taeil had another point, they can’t make Taeyong go back to his usual self, he has to do it himself. Their leader is so nervous, the stress of the performance approaching mixing badly with the sort of permanent panic-attack that’s been threatening to fall over him for the past few days.

But god damn it, if Doyoung doesn’t like to just wait, and hope it will all be for the better. Damn it, if Doyoung is not finding it harder and harder to restrain himself from just walking up to Taeyong, get a good hold on his arms and shake him, until this madness slithers out of his brain.

A loud, thudding noise.

Doyoung startles, snapped out from his thoughtful session and suddenly back to reality. The hallway he’s sitting in – back on the wall, ass on the cold floor, forehead still sweaty from too many practice hours. The lights are dimmed, the time late enough that only half the lamps are still on. Almost nobody is left on this floor, everyone having already left, and Manager-ssi having already shepherded the rest of the members home.

Beside Taeyong. Who’s stayed behind, claiming he’d wanted to go on practicing some more.

Manager-ssi left, looking at Taeyong’s turned back with a look that was bordering on begging – please Taeyong, take care of yourself, you need to rest, please just come home with us – but he hadn’t pushed, knowing that these days Taeyong doesn’t like getting in a packed car with the rest of the members anymore.

Doyoung has stayed, if only because Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind as much being alone in a car or the elevator with him. He has shared a meaningful look with Manager-ssi, and decided he’d stay behind. To check on Taeyong.

But he’s left, too, walking aimlessly down the hallway to find a spot to sit down and think. He’s left Taeyong alone.

And now that sound.

Doyoung’s heart speeds up and he starts walking towards the practice room at a fast pace. After a few steps he jogs and then even runs. The music is still thumping from the soundproof doors, but that sound, that was the sound a body dropping on the floor makes. And he doesn’t hear Taeyong’s voice anymore, counting the steps, or the heavy thuds he makes when he stomps harder to make himself memorize steps.

It could mean anything, he thinks, but he’s running – maybe Taeyong is just resting, Doyoung thinks, hurrying to the glass door – his heart sinks when he doesn’t see Taeyong’s silhouette through it, the music still on, but nobody moving in the room.

He slams the glass doors open and frantically looks around, and there Taeyong is, on the floor. His limbs are arranged in an awkward way, as if he’d collapsed, he doesn’t raise his head to see why Doyoung is rushing in, doesn’t call him stupid, doesn’t ask what’s wrong…

Taeyong is motionless on the floor, and Doyoung almost dives at his side, turning Taeyong’s head only the slight bit that’ll enable him to check on his pulse with two fingers on his carotid.

There is pulse, however feeble.

Doyoung sighs loudly, in relief, shoulders sagging. He slides his knees under his body and bends towards Taeyong’s face, caressing him and calling his hyung’s name. No reaction. He stands up, gets a bottle of water, switches off the music. He pours some water on the cupped palm of his hand and swipes it on Taeyong’s forehead and lips.

“Taeyong” he repeats: “Taeyong, please, wake up” he calls, shaking the unconscious man gently.

He tries to think what he should do. Taeyong’s fainted to the floor – he has fallen, hit his head, he shouldn’t be moved. Or maybe it doesn’t matter? Maybe if you fall from a standing position and you’re not two meters high won’t cause any damage. Water might help – yes, but Doyoung can hardly pour it down Taeyong’s throat while he’s flat on the ground, can he.

Doyoung shakes Taeyong again and whips his phone out of the pocket of his joggers, thumbing it until he’s got Manager-ssi number.

Taeyong looks way too pale, his pulse is too feeble, and Doyoung can barely distinguish the rise and fall of his chest. If his hyung is breathing, it’s not nearly as deep as he needs. He places the call and puts it on speaker. With one hand he smooths Taeyong’s hair out of the way, with the other he’s still holding his phone. He puts it down, checks on Taeyong’s heartbeat, hand flat on Taeyong’s chest.

“Doyoung?” Manager-ssi answers, already sounding worried.

“Hyung, Taeyong’s fainted, I don’t know what to do, he won’t wake up!” he frantically explains, and realizes that, no, this is not a good way to explain anything, and yes, it’s the best way to make someone panic.

He tries to calm down.

“I’ve tried the dampening the face thing, the one you’ve told me it helps in these cases. But he’s still out. And I’ve called him and shaken him, but only a bit because he’s fallen, I don’t know if it’s high enough he might have a concussion or what, I don’t know if I can move him…”

“Doyoung, it’s okay” Manager-ssi interrupts him: “are you sure he is breathing? Can you check basic vitals?”

“He is breathing, but slow. Super slow pulse. And he’s really, really pal… holy shit! He’s moving! Hyung, Taeyong, Taeyong, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Taeyong’s stirring body might be the best thing Doyoung has ever seen. He moves his hand from Taeyong’s chest to take his hand, intertwining their fingers. He caresses Taeyong’s face again, even if no strand of hair is in his eyes anymore. Taeyong blinks owlishly a couple of times, looking pained.

“..Doie?”

“Oh, thank god” Doyoung sighs, relieved, and even bends down to press a quick kiss on Taeyong’s damp forehead: “you’re okay, hyung, you just fainted. You fell straight to the floor. I didn’t know if that was high enough you’ve hurt something. I guess it’s a good thing you’re not tall, uh”

He is rambling. He is absolutely rambling. He doesn’t care.

His name is being called from the phone and he swiftly takes it back, holding it between him and Taeyong. The older man grimaces, bringing his free hand to the back of his head.

“Ouch” is all he says.

Doyoung snorts in agreement: “Yes, I’m sure you’ll have a lump tomorrow”

“Doyoung, is he awake? How is he?” Manager-ssi asks again.

“Yes, he’s awake” Doyoung answers, at the same time Taeyong croaks that he is fine.

“Doie, help me sit up please” Taeyong mumbles, and Doyoung quickly complies, putting the phone on the ground again.

“Boys, don’t leave the building alone, okay? And Doyoung, make sure to wait before letting Taeyong stand up. He could faint again. I’m sending a car and I’m calling a doctor”

“No doctor” Taeyong childishly protests, while Doyoung slithers his arms around his shoulders and helps him into a sitting position.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to refuse a checkup, hyung” Doyoung scolds him.

Taeyong grumbles wordlessly from where he’s slumped, his head resting in the hollow of Doyoung’s neck. Doyoung slowly, gently caresses the back of Taeyong’s head and his farther arm.

“You scared me so much, you fucking idiot” he half-whispers.

Taeyong keeps his head down, hooded eyes looking at his stretched-out legs.

“I’m sorry, Doie” he replies just as quietly.

“Boys?” Manager-ssi’s voice from the phone on the floor almost startles them.

“We heard. I’ll wait. He’s just sitting now” Doyoung explains.

Manager-ssi wants to speak with Taeyong directly and Taeyong tries to insist again that he doesn’t need any doctor, claiming that he’s fine and that he was just tired. Doyoung cuts that stream of bullshit short quickly in his usual, fraternal way (“Hyung I swear to god I will fucking break your nose if you keep this bratty attitude. You fucking fainted. You’re getting checked, and that’s final, you fucking bastard”).

Taeyong pouts and protests something about dongsaengs not paying him respect and not loving him, and Manager-ssi tries not to laugh in relief at hearing the two of them back to what is the closest thing to their usual banter. He makes Doyoung promise again to wait before letting Taeyong stand up, then he ends the call.

It’s relatively silent after that. Taeyong is breathing quietly, still slouched against Doyoung’s front, Doyoung’s arms firmly enclosed around his back. The arm Doyoung has on Taeyong’s front relaxes, the hand sliding until it rests over Taeyong’s beating heart, now pumping at a steeper rhythm.

Taeyong closes his eyes and then opens them again, keeping them on the tip of his shoes. He bends one knee to his chest but leaves the other splayed out. Doyoung is sitting on his butt, and it’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t plan on moving an inch.

“You’ve scared me” he repeats quietly.

The room is silent and so is this entire floor. They can hear distant, muted noise from the street.

“You’ve already said that” Taeyong points out, but it lacks any energy, and Doyoung doesn’t react to it the way the words were probably aiming for.

Instead, he moves his hands from Taeyong’s heart upwards, cards it in his hair again, combs it backwards.

“I know. It’s because it’s true”

His words are soft and he can’t see Taeyong in the eyes, and maybe it’s better.

“I’m sorry” Taeyong murmurs again, almost a whisper.

Doyoung doesn’t really think. He just bends down and places a kiss on top of Taeyong’s sweaty hair. He rests his forehead there, and for a moment he forgets about the tweet, about the tension that tore NCT127 apart. Then he remembers, freezes and makes to move away.

Taeyong’s hand flashes up and closes around Doyoung’s shoulder.

“No, stay” he mumbles, his voice soft and child-like: “I’ve missed you like this”

Doyoung feels his heart churn in his chest. When he speaks his voice breaks a little and he hopes Taeyong doesn’t notice. He’s just lying straight over Doyoung’s heart after all, why would he notice. Right?

Wrong. So wrong.

Whatever.

“I thought you wanted space” Doyoung says. Because well. What if this is the moment he manages to finally bring Taeyong to discuss how he’s feeling after the tweet mess. And yes, fine, also a bit because he doesn’t want to be made look like it was all his fault if he and Taeyong have grown apart.

Taeyong hums softly. The hand on Doyoung’s shoulder slides down on Doyoung’s chest, and it splays open, fingers wide, close to Taeyong’s head. As close as it can go to Doyoung’s heart, given that that is exactly under Taeyong’s head.

“I did” Taeyong answers. He sounds distant now. as if he didn’t want to bring up the topic. Doyoung understands every word Taeyong says and also all those he doesn’t.

“Okay” Doyoung murmurs.

“I’m sorry”

“You don’t have to be” Doyoung whispers again, soft, moving his fingers on the back of Taeyong’s head. Slowly, because he doesn’t know where Taeyong has hit it when he’s fallen.

“No, I do. I shouldn’t have let that tweet get me so much”

“Hyung, it’s okay” Doyoung repeats, but Taeyong moves, looking up at him, meeting Doyoung’s eyes.

“No” he repeats, dead serious.

The hand he has on Doyoung’s chest pushes slightly, and Doyoung’s own one slithers down to cup his face. Then, after realizing how intimate that is, Doyoung places it safely on Taeyong’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have let a stranger get under my skin. I shouldn’t have let it affect the team this much. And I should have never let it drive us apart like it did. I’m sorry, Doyoung. I really am”

Doyoung can’t breathe.

It would admittedly be difficult for everyone, with Taeyong’s big eyes so serious and so close. Doyoung looks at his friend and he can’t deny the way Taeyong is breathtakingly beautiful. He can’t deny the way his own heart beats faster at Taeyong’s words. He can’t help the small smile that creeps up his face, and his hand automatically goes back to cup Taeyong’s cheek.

“I’m happy you feel better now” he simply says.

Taeyong nods, and for a moment he is still as serious. Then his eyes soften, and this hooded-eyes look is almost too much for Doyoung, who thinks he should have braced for the impact because now he’s struggling under the intensity of this stare. Taeyong’s eyes are so big, Doyoung could see universes and galaxies inside them. Wide open, pitch black, sparkling with the light Doyoung has not seen for days.

He could cry.

No seriously, he thinks he might cry. Shit, he is about to cry.

And Taeyong knows because he cracks up in a shit eating grin and Doyoung bends over and hides his face over the top of Taeyong’s head, and places kisses and kisses over the sweaty hair.

“Shut up” he says, but it lacks energy and it’s muffled against Taeyong’s hair, and Taeyong is shaking with silent laughter and so is Doyoung. The tears fall and dampen Taeyong’s hair. Doyoung presses Taeyong closer to his chest, his free hand gripping at the base of his neck.

“Doie” Taeyong calls, after a while.

“Shut it” Doyoung protests, not daring leaving his position because he’s not sure he’s done crying and he might start again if he makes eye contact with Taeyong.

“Doie” Taeyong repeats, sliding one hand over Doyoung’s cheek, effectively mirroring what Doyoung has done earlier.

Doyoung notices, but doesn’t freeze. This is new, but also very nice.

He slowly straightens his back and looks down. Taeyong in his arms, one hand trapped between their chests, the other cupping Doyoung’s cheek. Big doe eyes full of something that Doyoung sees for the first time and he has absolutely no idea what it is – but surely it can’t be …

“Doie, would you do something for me?” Taeyong asks, his voice a whisper again.

And Doyoung aches so much he knows he needs to make a joke, break the tension, get rid of the dramatic moment, but he can't. He swallows and nods.

“Would… would you kiss me?” Taeyong asks.

Doyoung’s teeth grit together, and he watches Taeyong’s face, searching, looking.

He swallows again.

“Where is this coming from?” he asks, a whisper.

Taeyong blushes slightly. Doyoung is fairly certain he doesn’t even know.

“I… I have been thinking. I’m not proud of the things that tweet made me think. But some of the thoughts I’ve had weren’t that bad. And I was wondering… I want to know how it’d be like. To kiss a guy. And I’d want it to be you”

The implicit, missing ‘the first time’ part is left unsaid, but Doyoung hears it in his head as if Taeyong had screamed it. The deepening blush on Taeyong’s cheeks tells him that the same goes for his hyung.

For a moment, Doyoung hesitates.

He wants to. God he wants to. For so many reasons. He wants to know himself how it is to kiss a guy. He wants to know how it is to kiss someone hot as Taeyong. A guy as beautiful as him. He wants to know how it is to kiss his friend, the one he shares customized rings with. He wants to kiss him because he asked and he’d do anything Taeyong asked him, and he wants to kiss him because he’s so happy to have his friend back.

Taeyong’s blush deepens in that few seconds of hesitating. And Doyoung realizes he’s interpreting this as if Doyoung did not want to, as if, in fact, Doyoung was looking for an excuse not to, or whatever – and Doyoung will not have any of that.

He smiles, and if he’s blushing too whatever, and he dips closer, zeroing the distance and pressing his lips to Taeyong’s.

He can hear the sharp intake of air Taeyong takes. 

It’s a chaste kiss. Closed lips pressed on his friend’s. He moves away barely a few centimeters, looks down and finds Taeyong blushing, looking even more beautiful, and with hooded eyes. That plump bottom lip part and Doyoung doesn’t really think – he doesn’t have a plan, he just, leans again and takes that bottom lip between his own, nips at it with his teeth. He kisses Taeyong again, opening his mouth, Taeyong mirroring him, and, he’s not sure how, who did what first, but the next thing he knows they’re pushing their tongue against the other’s and it’s so good.

Taeyong slides his hand up in Doyoung’s hair and drags him closer, eliciting a feeble moan from the younger man. The force in that grip surprises Doyoung – for some reason everyone assumes Taeyong would be gracious, elegant, and weak, but there’s none of that now. Taeyong drags Doyoung close until Doyoung falls from his kneeled position and all but collapses on top of his elder, all while still kissing fervently, hands now roaming freely the back of Doyoung’s head and down his shoulders.

Doyoung moans through his closed mouth (well, not closed. Just occupied) and Taeyong rolls them over, pinning Doyoung to the floor with his weight, one leg sliding between Doyoung’s, and they keep kissing, wet and noisy and so, so damn good, Doyoung hands gripping at Taeyong’s shoulders and holding him by the back of his head, keeping firmly in place.

After a while, one that neither could tell how long it was, Taeyong breaks the kiss and pushes up on his elbow. The distance is minimal, only enough that they can hold each other’s gaze. They look one up, the other down, and burst out giggling right after.

Taeyong collapses again on Doyoung, face hidden in his chest, and Doyoung closes his arms around Taeyong protectively but not as firmly as he was doing only a few seconds before. He laughs with his head tilted back on the floor, laughs and laughs and laughs, and so does Taeyong, and he’s happy, and Taeyong is happy, and fuck, the kiss was even good.

“Oh, damn” Taeyong comments after a while, the laughing fit only barely subsided. He nuzzles his face on Doyoung’s chest and looks up, meeting Doyoung’s eyes: “that went better than I could have thought”

Doyoung snorts and props himself on his elbows as well, so he can look at Taeyong in a more comfortable position: “Taeyong, it’s me, I always do everything impeccably”

Taeyong pushes him back flat on the floor, biting his bottom lip and looking at him with mischievous eyes.

“I don’t know, I think it was more because of how good I was. The way you moaned certainly would prove my skills” he quips, smiling devilishly.

Doyoung blushes slightly: “Well, and you weren’t?”

“You were louder”

“Was not! You liked it too!” Doyoung protests, pushing up on his arms again and forcing Taeyong to roll further down his chest.

Taeyong laughs and nods: “Yeah, yeah, that I did” he admits.

They look at each other and sober up, expressions growing serious but not awkward.

Doyoung smiles softly.

“I’m happy if you liked it”

“I did” Taeyong smiles as well.

“I hope it was up to your expectations” Doyoung continues, smirking.

“It was” Taeyong admits, mirrored expression.

“Good” Doyoung says, and he can’t help the smug look on his face.

Taeyong chuckles: “It was really good, but, don’t take it personally if I don’t do that every time from now on, okay”

Doyoung shakes his head: “You’re still my best friend, Yong. No offence. I am not sure any amount of kissing would ever make that change”

Taeyong rolls on his belly and quirks an eyebrow: “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t love me enough to be my boyfriend, or that you love me too much as a best friend and could not date me because you wouldn’t want to ruin that?”

Doyoung almost answers, then he stops, looks at the ceiling, gives it an actual thought.

“Probably both” he finally admits: “you are my best friend, Taeyong. I love you like that, and you know it. It was a good kiss, but I… I don’t know”

“You wouldn’t ask me to blow you into tomorrow and come on my face?” Taeyong asks, quoting the tweet and beating his eyelashes with a face as innocent as he absolutely isn’t.

Doyoung sputters and blushes furiously. Taeyong bursts up laughing again.

“Oh, look now, I am happy that you finally got over whatever issues you had and that you can finally make jokes about that tweet, but that doesn’t mean I want to ever hear in the same sentence my name, the word blowjob and come, not from you”

“Why” Taeyong goes on, grinning madly, shoulders shaking from the previous laughing fit: “do you have anything against blowjobs? Or coming on people’s faces?”

“No, that I like, it’s the thought of you blowing me and me coming on your face that kind of disturbs me” Doyoung quips back, smacking Taeyong on the arm.

Taeyong snorts: “Yes, well. Don’t get me wrong, the kiss was great, but. I don’t think I’m ready to go down on a guy any time soon”

Doyoung laughs in agreement.

By the time he stands up and has Taeyong sitting against the wall (“Please don’t get up. Please stop. Stop, hyung, stay there sitting on the fucking floor. I don’t want you fainting again” “Couldn’t you just kiss me better though?” “I don’t make a habit of kissing people into consciousness, Taeyong” “Why? Are you more an ‘I make them faint when I kiss them’ kinda guy?” “That’s not what I meant and you know it” “But, Doie! Princesses in stories always wake up when the prince kisses them, wouldn’t you want to try?” “Are you calling yourself a princess now?” “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!”), the car Manager-ssi has sent has arrived.

A rushed employee of the company appears, face madly red and panting. Doyoung and Taeyong insist that the poor man calm down, offer him water. When the guy looks like a human being and no longer on the point of exploding, him and Doyoung help Taeyong to his feet. Taeyong leans heavily on Doyoung’s shoulder, Doyoung’s arm firmly placed around Taeyong’s torso, and they ask the employee to wait for them downstairs in the car.

“I can walk, I tell you” Taeyong insists, but doesn’t try to move away.

“I don’t care” Doyoung replies, and tightens his hold around Taeyong’s chest.

Finally they get to the car. Taeyong slides in and rests his head on Doyoung’s shoulder during the ride, Doyoung intertwining the fingers of Taeyong’s right and his own left hand, respectively.

The car is parked inside the gate of the building where the dorms are, much closer, as if the driver and the employee Manager-ssi sent were trying to minimize the risk of Taeyong fainting and falling again. Maybe smashing his skull open this time.

Doyoung insists he can help Taeyong upstairs alone, and they both thank profusely again the two men in the car. After some hesitation the boys manage to slip out the vehicle and make it to the elevator, Taeyong still half-carried by his younger.

They bicker all the while, walking, in the elevator, even in the hallway towards the door of their shared apartment on the fifth floor – they don’t even know what they’re bickering about, but when Doyoung pushes open the door and half-drags Taeyong inside, they are both laughing.

And meet about eight pairs of eyes, eight times the same incredulous, worried, surprised, relieved, nervous look.

“Oh” Doyoung comments, apologetically looking in direction of Manager-ssi: “I’m sorry, I should have texted you that we were here”

“Doie, why are you apologizing to Manager-ssi with words. Use food instead!” Taeyong protests, trying to cuff Doyoung with the arm that Doyoung is keeping pinned over his shoulder.

“Shut up, idiot, you just want me to cook so you can steal my food” Doyoung glares, and promptly awws in defeat when he meets Taeyong’s puppy eyes.

“Urgh, okay, fine, I’m cooking. Just sit the fuck down and don’t stand up while I’m not looking and I’ll cook” he concedes.

Taeyong cackles madly, something that sounds like his evil plan having worked out.

-

Doyoung is cooking. Jungwoo and Taeil have silently joined him in the kitchen. They aren’t much as helpers go, but Doyoung doesn’t need help anyway, so he doesn’t complain. And he wouldn’t complain anyway, since he’s too busy basking in the good, addicting sound of laughter coming from the other room.

The doctor Manager-ssi has called has checked Taeyong very quickly, scolding him for not taking care of himself and demanding that he take a full day of rest, otherwise he might faint again. Manager-ssi had Taeyong promise, and promised himself, too, that he’d make sure Taeyong will rest the day after, so that he will still make it on time with finishing up practicing and the rest of the preparation for their concert.

Haechan and Mark are still sitting close to Taeyong, cracking jokes and making people laugh. Doyoung can’t really keep track of what is being said but it doesn’t matter, he gets the feeling that it’s just mindless, stupid jokes. Mark holds himself rather stiffly, but Haechan, after a moment of hesitation and a quick look at Taeyong to check, has taken one of Taeyong’s hands in his and is now holding it close to his chest.

Taeyong laughs along with the jokes, relaxed in the chair, one arm splayed out on the table, the other in Haechan’s lap. The members joke around with Manager-ssi, and when the man leaves the mood is much better than in the past days.

Then, when the door closes, Taeyong sobers up almost immediately. He swallows, eyes trained to the door closed, and looks down. Haechan freezes, the hand he was using to caress Taeyong’s arm stopping.

Taeyong turns to him, smiles in a soft and fond way that doesn’t hide embarrassment, and looks around, making eye contact with all the other members gathered. Taeil and Jungwoo, having sensed something going on, migrate to the threshold of the kitchen, from where they, too, can assist.

“I wanted to tell you something” Taeyong says, voice calm and deep and the one they are all used to coming from their leader: “I wanted to apologize for being an idiot to you, these past days. To all of you”

He makes eye contact with Jaehyun, in particular, and Johnny, before moving on to the others.

“I… I have let that stupid tweet get under my skin, and I shouldn’t have. I know you guys. I should have… at least talked to you, I guess”

Doyoung lowers the stove heat and appears in the other room as well. He dries his hands with a towel and watches, silently. Taeyong meets his eyes and he nods, encouragingly.

“I’m sorry. I know you have all been feeling terribly recently. I just wanted to tell you, I will do whatever I can to help you feel better before the show”

And, well. Doyoung can’t help it.

He closes his eyes and cracks, grins and chokes on a fit of giggle. Most members throw him a scandalized look. Taeyong rolls his eyes, blushes and makes a sound that’s in between a giggle and a snort.

“Doyoung! I didn't mean it like that, you idiot! I was trying to say like, I will help you relax! Oh no, wait, that sounds even worse”

Doyoung is outrightly laughing now, bent forward and with tears in his eyes. Taeyong’s ears are red and he’s also giggling and he covers his face and brings his knees up to his chest, looking at Haechan, of all people.

“Oh Haechannie, how the fuck do I say this without sounding like I’m offering a fuck! Help me!”

Mark chokes and slams his forehead on the table, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. From his spot against the wall Yuta is also doubling over with giggle, and Haechan gapes, looking like he’s desperately trying to come up with something to say, even funny or helpful, anything.

“Now, that’s too bad, here I was, still hoping” Johnny deadpans.

Mark slams back up choking on air, eyes blown wide, and then bursts in one of his usual, hysterical laughing fits.

Taeyong’s ears are still a bit red, but he holds his ground and looks back with a cheeky expression.

“Johnny, haven’t you heard? Apparently I can’t let you anywhere near me. If I let you tap this ass now, I won’t be able to move on stage in a week”

“What the fuck do they even think I have in my pants, an anaconda?” Johnny asks, eyes squinting, but he cracks up mid-sentence and starts giggling.

So does Taeyong, and most of the people in the room.

Doyoung notices that there is just one person who’s currently not bent over with laughter, having trouble breathing and with tears in their eyes. And it’s Jaehyun. He walks the few steps separating him from Taeyong, pushes their leader’s chair so that he can squat right in front of him, and looks up, meeting Taeyong’s sobering up expression from over Taeyong’s bent knees.

Jaehyun takes Taeyong’s free hand into his, caresses the long, elegant fingers, frowning at them. When he looks back up and meets Taeyong’s eyes the room has fallen quiet again. Taeyong swallows, serious.

“I’m sorry Jaehyun”

Jaehyun’s teeth grind against each other, and then he shakes his head: “Don’t be sorry, hyung”

Jaehyun’s voice is deep and soft, raspy, the way he is when he’s dead serious about anything.

“I should have never been afraid of you, I’m sorry” Taeyong replies, voice down to barely more than a whisper, and Doyoung wonders if they should leave the two of them alone to do this. But Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind having an audience, nor does Taeyong, who swallows again, but doesn’t look that nervous.

They hold eyes in silence for a few seconds, and Doyoung feels a pang of jealousy realizing that he isn’t the only one who can wordlessly communicate with Taeyong. That he isn’t the only one who looks up into those big, doe eyes and can see straight to Taeyong’s soul. He can all but hear them talking, Taeyong asking for forgiveness for not trusting Jaehyun, Jaehyun telling him he has the right of being spooked, telling him he won't think any less of Taeyong for believing Jaehyun might, really, enjoy the sight of him in pain.

Jaehyun smiles, all dimples and blushing cheeks and he looks embarrassed and it makes Taeyong smirks for whatever reason.

“See? Why would anyone be afraid of a big softie like you?” he teases the younger.

Jaehyun falls forward, landing on his knees and rests his head against Taeyong’s shins. Taeyong relaxes one leg, then the other, offering Jaehyun his thigh to rest his head on. Jaehyun looks up at him and something between the position, his look, the dimples – or maybe it’s the smirk on Taeyong face? Something makes the air suddenly hotter than two second before.

“I would only do what you asked me” he comments, casual and cheeky but still clearly so embarrassed.

Taeyong giggles.

“You know hyung” Yuta pipes up, rocking on his heels: “I was thinking, these last days”

“You think?” Mark whips, but Yuta ignores him and continues.

“I get you’re handsome, but, why would anyone assume you’d bottom for any of us just because you’re pretty. I mean, I’m pretty too, but I wouldn’t bottom”

Taeyong snorts: “Yuta, darling, no offence. But, first, I am more handsome than you, even the haters say so. And second, if you really think you could top me you’ve got another thought coming, honey”

“Bitch!” Haechan and Mark shout at the same time, in English, pointer fingers raised.

Yuta just snorts: “Whatever. That just proves my point”

Jaehyun kisses Taeyong’s hand and stands up, walking quietly towards Doyoung, joining him, Jungwoo and Taeil on the threshold to the kitchen. Taeil one-arm hugs him.

Taeyong shrugs: “That’s the story of my life. You look pretty, they hope you’d roll over for them. Simple as that”

“Can we go back one second to Johnny’s anaconda please?” Jungwoo asks, triggering another round of giggling and surprised exclamations.

Jaehyun bends over Taeil with tears in his eyes and silently wheezes ‘Jason’. For some reason that not every member understands, the name has Johnny burst out laughing so hard his belly shakes, his eyes tear up and he almost falls from his chair.

“Seriously! Is it because he's tall? I'm tall too, why don't they think I have a big dick, too!” Jungwoo protests: “and why do people assume I’m a fucking idiot without any sex drive whatsoever? I told you guys you make me do too much aegyo, now people think I’m basically a five years old in an adult body!” he protests.

Taeyong turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Honey, if this is you letting me know that you’d like to join the rest of the team fucking me, please be a bit more explicit about it. I need to know if I have to add you to the schedule or what”

“Oh my god” Mark hysterically laughs-cries, and manages to fall from his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, please note that the character for Manager-ssi is completely made up. Even more than the rest of them I mean.


	6. This Bright Flame

After that, it goes back to normal. Sort of. A normal where all the members drop lewd comments around Taeyong from time to time, in a way probably only Baekhyun or Ten would have felt comfortable before. But it works, and it doesn’t seem to bother Taeyong.

Doyoung even asks him, at some point. One day, while they’re cooking of course, because it doesn’t matter how tired they are, Taeyong always manages to get himself roped into cooking for his members because he’s too soft and Doyoung maintains he’s a sucker for them.

He drops the comment and the tips of his ears redden immediately. He casts a wide-eyed glance to his hyung, wondering if he’s overstepped the line, but Taeyong just snorts an aborted laughter through his nose, in a way that should not be elegant at all, and yet, like many other things Taeyong does, still is.

“That’s something I hear often, recently”

Doyoung makes the very same noise – of course the result isn’t nearly as elegant.

“Yeah, yeah” he mutters, and goes back to his chopping. Taeyong seems entirely focused on stirring the pot with the cooking broth, and Doyoung can’t really figure out if he’s honestly so focused, or lost in thoughts, whatever those might be. Or if he’s just pretending Doyoung’s comments hasn’t bothered him.

Doyoung stops chopping but doesn’t let go of the knife. He straightens his back and looks pointedly at Taeyong. His elder notices and cocks an eyebrow, silently watching Doyoung over his shoulder.

Doyoung hesitates. Not because he doesn’t know how to phrase it or because he doesn’t want to make his hyung uncomfortable. Just because he wants to be sure he’s got Taeyong’s full attention. He has this habit of looking at you but not really be seeing you, and Doyoung doesn’t want to risk breathing a delicate subject before he’s sure he’s got Taeyong’s entire focus.

“What?” Taeyong asks, frowning and turning more towards him.

“Does it bother you?” Doyoung asks.

Taeyong lifts his other eyebrow as well: “That people on the internet think I’m the team slut? Well, wouldn’t it bother you, at least a little bit? I mean, I know I shouldn’t care about their opinion, but still…”

“No” Doyoung interrupts him: “I mean, us. The jokes. Since the other night, you’ve started making a lot of jokes about that tweet, but, I’m not sure I understand how much that bothers you. Are you doing it because you don’t want the team to feel as shitty as before? Are you just going along with the jokes because you feel like you’ve got something to make up for? Are you just allowing us to make these jokes at your expenses?”

Taeyong scoffs and tilts his head slightly to the side. His bangs fall over his right eye and he shakes his head to get rid of it.

“Doyoung, we always make jokes at someone’s expenses” he points out: “I wouldn’t be much fair, if I asked you to stop doing the same with me”

“But jokes are rarely this sexual” Doyoung replies, frowning: “and we both know that these jokes would have bothered you a lot only a week ago”

Taeyong shakes his shoulders: “Yeah, but now they don’t anymore”

“Why? Is it because you know that the tweet was complete bullshit? Or is it because you’ve decided you should accept this?” Doyoung insists.

Taeyong sighs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. He turns again and for a while focuses entirely on stirring at the pot.

“Look, I’m not allowing this, okay” he says, lowering the heat and turning to face Doyoung fully. He crosses his arms on his chest. His biceps bulk up a bit under the shirt. It has been a long time since Doyoung has seen any trace of muscle like that on Taeyong. It’s a nice change, he thinks.

“I’m not letting you crack jokes about the tweet just because I think I owe something to the team. And I definitely don’t let you just because I’m ashamed for the way I’ve reacted before – God, Doyoung, I don’t even know what you’re thinking right now and I won’t bother listing all the possibilities you could come up with because we both now I’d never end. Your brain is a scary place sometimes” Taeyong smirks fondly at that.

Doyoung only nods, letting his hyung go on. Taeyong uncrosses his arms and swallows. He slides his hands in the pockets of his sweats and relaxes against the stove, crossing one ankle over the other.

He looks good like this. Relaxed, tired, but overall happy. Doyoung feels the insane, unusual impulse of reaching over and kiss him on the tip of his nose, or his forehead. The sight of domestic Taeyong isn’t new to him, and yet it’s something Doyoung is growing more and more fond of.

He wonders if this new line of thoughts is a consequence of the kiss. Maybe they shouldn’t have done that. Though Doyoung isn’t sure these thoughts are bad.

“The jokes are simply funny, that’s all. That’s why I make them too. Period” Taeyong explains, in a tone of finality, as if to say, end of discussion.

But he knows that with Doyoung it’s never this easy to end a discussion.

Doyoung braces himself with hands splayed on the table and bends slightly forward, eyes trained on Taeyong’s face.

“So you’re telling me that now you find funny stuff that a week ago would have made you run to lock yourself up in your room?”

Taeyong rolls his eyes again. He’s blushing, but Doyoung doesn’t really know why.

Unless… no, no, Doyoung, what are you thinking. Though, Taeyong asked him to kiss him, didn’t he? So, why could he not have changed his mind about some of the things that were mentioned in the comments to that tweet as well?

Taeyong is looking at him with lips pressed in a thin line and doesn’t reply. So Doyoung nods to himself, drawing the only logical conclusion.

“Is this like the kiss thing? You’ve changed your mind? That’s why it doesn’t bother you anymore to hear some things?”

Taeyong scoffs through his nose, a tight smile creeping up his face.

“Well, I still don’t like the idea of being gangbanged or raped, thank you. Or tortured”

Doyoung nods, eyes unwavering. He bets he’s got his typical intense expression right now, the one that he always has (or, that Taeyong says he has) whenever he is close to figuring out something.

“But some of the other stuff. Like, the mild stuff. It doesn’t bother you, does it?” he insists.

Taeyong smiles, eyes on the floor. When he looks back up again and meets Doyoung’s eyes his cheeks are slightly red, and his smile is a bit clipped.

“I guess it’s a bit embarrassing, that it’s a hater that makes me realize I might be a bit bi, okay”

Doyoung is stunned into silence.

It’s not like he couldn’t have imagined it, especially after the kiss. He’s often wondered too, himself, about Taeyong’s sexuality, years before that kiss happened. And after the kiss he has wondered why Taeyong has come up with this idea of kissing a man, in the first place. Doyoung thinks he himself would have probably felt even more repulsed at the idea. Taeyong though…

He smirks. It’s actually the typical thing Taeyong would do: the very same the hater would never expect him to do. You call him a gay whore, you suggest he should be ashamed as being such? That’s probably the best way to make sure Taeyong will, indeed, act as gay whore. But a proud one.

Knowing him, it’s not that unlikely, that Taeyong started questioning his sexuality right after a hater initiated a shitstorm on the internet about him being gay for his team members.

Doyoung rethinks about the words Taeyong has just used – and his smirk grows wider.

“Alliterating, now?”

Taeyong snorts: “Of course that’s what you’d focus on” he mutters to himself, looking down.

Doyoung chuckles a bit, then more. He lets his eyes fall as well, not really seeing the chopped vegetables they end up on. He tries to understand what’s going on in his own brain. Is he surprised after Taeyong’s confession? Does he have any problem with that? Most importantly, is he really as unaffected as he feels?

He straightens his posture and finds Taeyong eyes looking his way. His hyung looks like he’s waiting for Doyoung to react. But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to deliver, so he just shakes his shoulders.

“Uh, am I supposed to say something in particular?” he asks, honestly.

Taeyong shrugs: “I don’t know. I just told you I’m bisexual. I guess now would be the best time for you to tell me if you have any problem with that or not”

Doyoung frowns.

“Taeyong… you know we’re still friends even if you tell me you like cock, too, right?” he asks, carefully, face neutral.

“I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t want to have friendship rings anymore, for starters” Taeyong deadpans.

Doyoung scowls at him, and then realizes Taeyong is actually serious. This idiot.

“Are you... seriously? Look, unless you’re suddenly going to tell me that you’ve meant those rings as something more than what I’ve understood they were supposed to be for, then I don’t care, I am definitely keeping mine, and I will be very offended if you stop wearing yours. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you are not wearing it much, recently”

“I just don’t want to lose it” Taeyong replies, smiling.

Doyoung just shakes his head. Then he looks up at Taeyong, from under his fringe.

Taeyong swallows, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Are you really okay with it?”

“Me? Absolutely” Doyoung reiterates, eyes trained on Taeyong’s face.

Taeyong nods. He pouts and looks at the side, towards the window. He doesn’t see anything – outside it already pitch black. But it doesn’t really matter, because they both know he doesn’t care for what’s outside.

“Do you think the others will be okay with it, too?” he asks.

Doyoung tries his best to keep from snorting in incredulity. He manages, but it’s an effort. Really. He inhales through his nose and looks at Taeyong with disbelief. He wonders – well. Taeyong … surely, he knows, right? He cannot not know. It’s impossible that he doesn’t know. He can be dense, sure, but he cannot be this dense.

“Taeyong, hyung…” he starts. His breath catches and he cocks his head to the side, squinting.

“You do know that the entire team is a little bit gay for you, right? Tell me you knew. Please. Tell me you’re not this unobservant. Also, tell me, because I really don’t think I could live knowing I am the one you broke it out for you”

Okay, now he is rambling. But at least Taeyong bursts out laughing, and that’s what matters. He shakes his head, eyes closed, and when he reopens them, back on Doyoung, the tips of his ears have gone red but his eyes are full of mischief. It’s a good look on him, Doyoung finds. Even if he would have very valid reasons not to like it, given that it always comes paired with a bratty attitude. And a bratty Taeyong is a menace.

“I thought it might be a little like that, but. You know. I didn’t want to sound… arrogant, I guess” he admits.

Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“Taeyong, I swear. You turn gay even random TV presenters when they host us on their show”

Taeyong laughs: “Yeah, but, you know. You guys live with me. You know the real me. And it’s not like none of those TV presenters don’t lie. How would I know if the way Jaehyun or Johnny blush is just as made up as the way a TV presenter look at me?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes again. He thinks he might be blushing a bit, too, and he doesn’t know, honestly, why would he. Judging from the way Taeyong’s grin widens, Doyoung is afraid it’s not just a feeling – he really is blushing.

“Look. I’m going to say this just this one time, okay. Take this like, my version of the ‘to you’ confession thing, some part I have not told you. I don’t care. Anyway…” he takes a deep breath, bracing himself as if he was about to jump off a cliff. And then he jumps.

“Knowing the real you is exactly why someone would fall for you. Because you’re the most adorable, nerdy, cute, bratty, and genuine person I have ever seen. I mean, there must be a reason if you’re my best friend, don’t you think? And, well. You know you’re hot. No, actually, you know what, I think you still haven’t understood just how much, how hot you are. And, I swear you will never hear this from me ever again, at least not this seriously, but. You really are handsome. As in, you’re really, easily the hottest person I have laid eyes on. And the same goes for anyone in the team. Pick a member and ask them, they’ll tell you the same thing. We are – we all are a little bit in love with you. At least a little bit”

Silence.

He pauses, breathing hard through his nose. Taeyong is blushing, but his expression is serious. He doesn’t crack a joke, which Doyoung at the same time appreciates and doesn’t. His hyung lowers his eyes, the tips of his ears red, and he swallows. Doyoung can’t help it, half of him wants to shout, see? This, this side of you, this is the reason why we all love you. Like, really love you – because, even if nobody has personally informed Doyoung, Doyoung is sure that some of the members are a little bit in love, like capital L Love, with Taeyong.

And fine, maybe he has been too. Maybe a bit he still is. Anyway.

Taeyong swallows again and nods, raising his eyes again to meet Doyoung’s.

“Okay” he says quietly.

Doyoung snorts in disbelief: “Really? That’s the only thing you can come up with?” he asks, voice high pitched in incredulity.

Taeyong rolls his eyes, blushing harder: “Well, what do you want me to say? You know I’m not good with this. Not… Not when people really mean what they say”

“No, you mean, you’re not used to people being serious when they say you’re hot. You see?” he shakes his head, almost in frustration, and gestures as if to make a point: “anybody else in this industry would eat all these compliments right up. You, on the other hand, you can barely cope with them. Most of the times it’s like you don’t know how to react”

“That’s because I don’t” Taeyong replies, in his bratty voice and hiding how embarrassed he is behind a sarcastic smile.

Doyoung rolls his eyes: “Hyung, in this industry…”

“I get it, I get it. You’ve told me already, you and Manager-ssi, I’ve gotta learn to take compliments” Taeyong interrupts him, rolling his eyes: “look, it’s… you said it yourself. That you were being honest. So, to be just as honest… I don’t know what to do, okay” he admits.

Doyoung lets a few seconds pass after this, thinking. Then he fights down the smirk, and struggles to keep his most deadly serious face on.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

Taeyong blushes madly.

“What… why? Not that I’m against or anything, but, isn’t this a bit too random? What would you even achieve with that?”

“I don’t know. Might work like when you kiss children where they’re hurt. Like, I’d kiss you better. I could kiss your pride better. Only, I don’t know where your pride would be”

Right when Doyoung is about to bring this conversation straight to the gutter and ask if Taeyong deems his pride to be his dick, Taeyong slips both hands out of his pants and splays them in front of him with a pained expression.

“Doyoung, please, I beg you. Stop now”

“Oh, are you begging me already? Should I record this? I’m pretty sure some of the members would love to hear those words from you” Doyoung teases, but he can’t keep a straight face and cracks, starts laughing about halfway through it.

Taeyong blushes and fights down a smile. He isn’t doing a particularly good job though.

“I am pretty sure if they want to hear me begging so much they will come up with a better plan to get me to beg” he points out, the sarcasm obvious.

“One that wouldn’t involve hurting you, obviously” Doyoung adds, back to serious.

Taeyong lifts his eyebrow at the sudden change in expression: “How do you even do that, so fast. And I agree”

-

It’s been eight days since the salvific fainting, as Manager-ssi likes to call it, if only in the privacy of his mind, Eight days since Taeyong and Doyoung have come back to the NCT dorms laughing like kids after getting away with mischief. Eight days since the fateful night the team has gone back to being a team.

Manager-ssi left rather early, pretty much straight after the doctor, preferring to leave the members to enjoy the renewed feeling of belonging to the team. He didn’t want to intrude, it’s what he means.

Because of this, he doesn’t know exactly what was the way things have gone down, in the living room of the fifth floor dorm. But he knows it must have gone well, because the boys are back to their normal selves – or at least, very close to it. Still, if you know them the way Manager-ssi does, you notice the difference. It’s just that he’s not sure he’s gone crazy, and he is completely misreading some signals, misinterpreting something. Either that, or, the boys have lost their minds. How else would he explain the suddenly overabundant display of skinship and affection that has taken over?

These boys have always been close and friendly with each other, but they are boys, spanning from late teen age to early youth. Skinship is fine to some extent. Some of them had to learn not to react bad to whoever initiated it, like Jaehyun. Or Taeyong. Sure, nobody disliked it as much as Winwin did, but, it wasn’t that far, honestly.

And now? Manager-ssi wonders if they’ve been drugged. Or if there is some secret bet going on and they haven’t kept him privy to it. Or maybe they have been abducted by aliens? Or the fae people? Is Manager-ssi talking with changelings, instead of the boys of NCT 127?

He shakes his head, watching from the farther side of the practice room as Haechan jumps on Jaehyun’s back, and they engage Taeil and Jungwoo in a kicking fight, where only the transportees, Haechan and Jungwoo, are allowed to kick.

Manager-ssi personally thinks Taeil is doing a pathetic job at keeping Jungwoo up and they should have gone the other way, Jungwoo carrying the lighter elder man. They hardly stand a chance. He is about to push from his slouched position against the wall and tell them to stop before they hurt themselves, when the same reprimand comes not too far from them, from Taeyong.

The two couples freeze in the act, Taeil and Jaehyun spinning to face their leader. Taeyong stands close to the choreographer he was discussing steps with, and has his arms crossed over his chest. His scold is very efficient, Manager-ssi notes, and so motherly-like it’s a bit creepy. He is pretty sure he has seen a very similar version of his wife, when she scolds their daughters. Or her husband.

Behind Taeyong, Johnny snickers and lazily walks the two meters separating him from the leader. And. Johnny all but aligns the right side of his front against the left side of Taeyong’s back, bodies adhering from shoulders, back or chest, to the hip, even further down their thighs. Taeyong not only lets him. He even leans backward, enough to almost snuggle against Johnny’s body.

Taeyong’s expression is still fixed in the severe scold he addresses the four idiots with, and he looks entirely focused on stressing how stupid the idea of playing a game that can injure your legs and your members’ is, right before a concert and a long series of promotions. But Johnny isn’t just as quick to hide his reaction, or perhaps Taeyong leaning against him just took him that much by surprise – whatever it is, the older, taller boy looks down at the top of Taeyong’s head, eyes wide. He raises an arm oh so slowly, and brings it around Taeyong’s waist, leaving there, fingers resting on Taeyong’s other side.

Taeyong seems to falter the smallest fraction, but he recovers quickly, and leans even further into Johnny.

Manager-ssi doesn’t know how to interpret that. Jaehyun has stopped listening to Taeyong, his eyes entirely focused on Johnny’s fingers and the way they rest on Taeyong’s side. The rest of the quartet seems just as shocked as Manager-ssi feels, at witnessing the blatant display of affection.

Now. On the one hand, Manager-ssi is very happy the boys are back to friends. On the other hand, this is an entirely new level of closeness that he’s never seen any of them comfortable with. Maybe Haechan, and mostly to fuck with them. The ones he knew would not like it – like Mark.

Yuta casually joins the cuddling – Manager-ssi does not want to refer to anything Johnny and Taeyong might be doing together as cuddling, but, it’s a bit difficult to find a synonym. The Japanese boy throws the smallest glance Johnny’s way and then slumps an elbow over Taeyong’s shoulder, his body relaxing into Taeyong’s.

“Mind if I join, hyung? This seems fun, me not getting scolded for once” he jokes, grinning at the quartet.

“Oh! You little piece of shit – I mean, hyung!” Jungwoo exploded, eyes flashing bloody murder and squirming over Taeil’s back – and almost throwing Taeil off balance and sending both of them sprawling to the floor.

“You started this game!” Jungwoo accuses, finger extended. Haechan nods vigorously, from above Jaehyun.

“Yes, you did!” he confirms.

Taeyong turns and glares at Yuta. Yuta, to his credit, holds on his poker face, smiles his dazzling smile – although, that’s like admitting guilt, and beats his lashes.

“Don’t believe them, hyung. I would never”

Johnny, above them, scoffs: “Yes, you would”

“You totally would” Taeyong agrees, and he pokes Yuta’s chest with his index finger. Yuta catches it and holds it close, fingers sliding up Taeyong’s wrist, cradling it to his front, stroking the back of Taeyong’s hands.

Taeyong lets him. He holds eyes with the Japanese boy, and doesn’t seem bothered even when the other starts playing with the ring he’s wearing on his middle finger. Yuta’s own pointer and thumb slide the ring up and down the length of Taeyong’s finger in a way that’s too obvious not to be obscene.

Manager-ssi is this close to gape at the blatant, intense strength of coming-onto from Yuta.

Personally, he knew Yuta could be bold, but he’d never expected he’d go this far.

Jaehyun drops Haechan in the blink of an eye, letting go of his legs in an instant. The maknae lets out a startled gasp that attracts Taeyong’s attention back to the quartet like a snap of fingers, and meets Jaeyhun’s dark eyes.

And, get this. The little shit smirks slightly, one of his mischievous smile that Manager-ssi has learned to be afraid of because this boy can be responsible and all but when he decides to act like the brat he still is, uuuuh, Manager-ssi, you’re in for trouble.

Taeyong splays his fingers, making it easier for Yuta to go on with his little, sensual game, and Yuta grins, eyes trained to the side of Taeyong’s face as his pointer and thumb continue to ring-fuck Taeyong’s middle finger. On Taeyong’s other side Johnny snickers again and bends over, rubs the tip of his nose on the top of Taeyong’s head. Both his hands close around Taeyong’s sides now, and he tightens his hold.

Manager-ssi doesn’t know what’s happening, seriously. Jungwoo, still on Taeil’s back, snickers and lays his head on his elbows, resting them over Taeil’s shoulder. He leans forward enough to be right behind Taeil’s ear and mutters something. The elders bursts out laughing and ends up dropping him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Haechan hears them and gapes, punching Jungwoo on the arm.

“Hyung! Don’t say that when poor Jaehyun hyung can hear you!”

Jaehyun turns to glare at him. Haechan raises his hands in surrender, pointing out he was just defending him. Manager-ssi has no idea what is going on.

“I can defend myself, thanks” Jaehyun seethes, and leaves without a second glance, joining Doyoung and Mark at the opposite side of the room.

Mark offers him a water bottle and Jaehyun accepts it, sitting down close to him.

Manager-ssi looks back at the Johnny-Taeyong-Yuta trio just in time to see Taeyong cuffing the back of Yuta’s head with no real force. He steps forward, forcing Johnny to release his hold on him, then turns to tell him something. Manager-ssi can’t hear what, but whatever it is, Johnny ends up really liking it because he laughs with his head thrown back.

Taeyong jogs through the room and joins the drinking group, crouching down between Doyoung and Jaehyun. He winks at Doyoung and engages him in whatever conversation – Manager-ssi doesn’t hear what they ‘re discussing but judging from the way Mark rolls his eyes and the way Taeyong and Doyoung start bickering, he guesses it isn’t really important.

What is more important is the way Taeyong moves out of his crouching position and sits down, sliding backward until his shoulders end up in Jaehyun’s chest. The younger doesn’t protest, in fact he turns his head to talk with Mark and appears to be entirely ignoring the bickering duo. He slides one arm around Taeyong’s front and then also a second, pulling Taeyong closer until Taeyong’s back is entirely pressed against Jaehyun’s front. Mark eyes widen when they notice how close the two of them are, and his expression goes comical when Jaeyhun opens his legs and drags Taeyong further against his front.

And Taeyong? Taeyong lets Jaehyun do whatever he seems to be wanting to do, limp as a ragdoll in his arms.

“What the fuck?” Manager-ssi mutters under his breath, frowning.

He feels like he’s missing something, something important. Something that involves all the members, and he has the terrible, dreadful suspicion that it involves Taeyong, and the things the tweet mentioned.

He prays he’s wrong.

-

It's not that he minds. He doesn't. If the boys have grown this affectionate towards one another, it's fine. The fans will interpret this the way they will: some will think this is just skinship, and others, those who dream of some boy on boy action, they'll see whatever they want to see. As far as Manager-ssi has understood, the internet interprets this as a form of ship, too.

But he's worried what the haters will do. The tweet is still there, fresh in memory, the shitstorm hasn't died down yet and only a week before Taeyong seemed too spooked to even bear the thought of standing less than a meter apart from another member. 

And now this. Manager-ssi is surprised to say the least. He would be worried if he didn't know better. Taeyong is hardly your fainting damsel in distress, and if someone, anyone, tried to touch him the way he doesn't like, Manager-ssi knows Taeyong would put them in place in less than two seconds. He has actually seen that happen, once, when the boy was still in SM rookies - the creep who's made a move on him hadn't finished saying the words 'fine piece of ass' that Taeyong had slapped his hand away and suckerpunched him in the guts.

Manager-ssi isn't worried for Taeyong's sake. Certainly not for his virtue. Or for the virtue of any other member - does any of them still have any virtue left? Anyway. 

The problem is that he wonders how could Taeyong change his mind so quickly. One week ago he was scared, one week after he acts like a player. Maybe the boy has done some thinking and decided he doesn't mind the attention of the other members. 

Okay, but then, why do the other look like they want to jump him, all of a sudden?

Well. Manager-ssi knows that this wouldn't be entirely true. Because he knows most of the boys have always been at least partially attracted to their leader. Taeyong doesn't realize the extent of his charm on other people, or maybe he does, now, but it's still an ongoing discovery. Manager-ssi has put Doyoung in charge of that - told him, Doyoung, make Taeyong understand that he has power on people because of the way he looks.

Sometimes Manager-ssi cannot believe his own eyes. This boy used to be bad. Your typical definition of a bad boy. Manager-ssi remembers being assigned to NCT, when all the current members had been selected, and he remembers his superior telling him to pay particular attention to Lee Taeyong. He remembers the middle-aged man telling him, this boy has been good with the other rookies, but we cannot forget what he was before. 

Manager-ssi looks at beautiful, caring Lee Taeyong, leader of NCT, and thinks of his surprise, reading the file on this boy. He remembers the first times he's accompanied the boys at interviews and seeing Taeyong blush and stutter because of strangers complimenting on his good looks, and not being able to get how someone could seduce a teacher at fifteen, and turn into a stuttering, blushing mess five years later. 

He remembers asking his superior if they were certain of the reliability of the file. He remembers wondering what had changed former misfit Lee Taeyong into this. 

He doesn't know, still hasn't figured it out and has made peace with the fact he'll never know. 

He's learned to live with this version of Taeyong, one who doesn't know how to take compliments and doesn't like them. 

So in the timespan of a week he went from spooked horse to a bratty, little minx. Hardly a surprise. Manager-ssi doesn't know how, but it's about a pattern now, isn't it. He never knows why Taeyong changes the way he does. Anyway, Taeyong flirts with the other members, but his priorities haven't changed. And to Manager-ssi that's all that matters. 

If it turns out that Taeyong actually, really wants to fuck all the members as the tweet has suggested, well. That's Taeyong's business, and Manager-ssi doesn't care. 

As long as they all use protection.

It's not like they can get pregnant after all.

Thank goodness he manages a group of boys. He really doesn't envy those colleagues of his who got girl bands to take care of.

-

"You looked nice, cuddling with Yuta on the couch, earlier"

Doyoung drops the comment casually, but Taeyong knows a teasing when he hears one. 

He rolls his eyes and grins Doyoung's way.

"Yeah?" 

Doyoung mirrors his expression and collapses on Taeyong's bed, right beside his legitimate occupant. Taeyong shuffles to the side a bit so that his friend can lie down at his side without risking falling.

"I just don't get why you're torturing poor Jaehyun like that" he says, sounding genuinely curious.

Taeyong wiggles his eyebrows: "Simple. It's because Jaehyun is convinced he's got to make it up to me"

Doyoung raises an eyebrow: "What are you taking about?"

Taeyong shrugs.

"The tweet, remember? They said Jaehyun is my dom or something. I think he feels guilty"

Doyoung squints, not following. Taeyong rolls his eyes and almost hits him with the pillow. He misses, and Doyoung is fully aware it's intentional.

"I think he'd like that" Taeyong explains.

The blood rushes to Doyoung's brain so fast it echoes loudly in his ears, and for a few seconds it's all he hears.

"Oh my god" he whispers after a while, and bursts in giggles: "you're shitting me!"

"I swear I'm serious. I think he does. I can't be sure. I mean, it's not like I can ask him. Or well, I guess I could but..."

"Naa, you're right, it'd be weird. But.. so you think?" Doyoung asks, intrigued.

Taeyong snorts and nods: "Actually, I'm pretty sure Johnny is into that shit too. And you can not believe me, but I'm starting to get a feeling so is Jungwoo"

"Jungwoo??" Doyoung squeals, in disbelief.

"I think so, yes" Taeyong repeats, giggling as well.

Doyoung laughs. He sobers up, thinks about it. He hums a bit under his breath.

"I guess. What about Yuta?" 

Taeyong snorts again: "Ah, no. I think Yuta just wants to mess with the others. It must be some territorial shit or something"

Doyoung nods. He agrees. He can totally see Yuta being into that.

"I..." Taeyong starts, then he stops, bites his lower lip.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow, making eye contact. 

"You what?"

Taeyong shakes his head: "I sound like an asshole"

Doyoung frowns: "Why?" 

Taeyong blushes, but seems intended to ignore it.

"I know the guys want me. But if I say it, i sound like some arrogant asshole too full of himself" he explains.

Doyoung can't blame him. But he looks at him pointedly anyway.

"Hyung, I get it, but it's still the way things are. And I'm not saying this just to be consistent with my previous statement"

Taeyong snorts: "You're so funny when you go all academic" 

Now it's Doyoung's turn to snort.

"Why, is it too difficult for you to follow If I use more than your standard twenty words?"

Taeyong pushes him, but hurries to catch him when Doyoung almost falls down the bed. Doyoung scoots back close to Taeyong and they both look at the ceiling in silence for a moment.

"Do you think you'd try anything with any of the members?" Doyoung asks, curious.

Taeyong hums, pulling his lips in a thin line.

"I don't know. It can be dangerous. It'd be good because it would get us rid of this awkward tension between us. We can't go back to ignore it, not after the tweet. But if I do anything with one of them, what would the logic behind it be? Why one and not another? Why one and not all? I mean... You know what I mean"

Doyoung makes a small affirmative sound and widens his eyes, still fixed on the ceiling.

"Seven might be a high number, though" he points out. Be doesn't know how much he says it as a joke.

"Well, it wouldn't be at the same time. And I'm not saying it'd fuck them. Or let them fuck me" Taeyong replies, and for once Doyoung is not sure how serious his friend is.

He turns to look at him but Taeyong's face is still turned upward, eyes trained on the ceiling. He grins devilishly.

"You're blushing hyung" he points out.

Taeyong turns to him, glaring: "Am not" 

Doyoung laughs: "You so are!"

Taeyong's mouth goes open and closed, teeth clicking together, and then he sighs and shakes his head.

"Whatever"

Doyoung chuckles again.

"You know, maybe you'd like that" he opines, after a moment.

Taeyong hums quietly.

"Maybe. Or maybe not. It's not I'm that experienced when it comes to homosexual intercourses, you know"

Doyoung raises an eyebrow: "Okay, first of all, intercourses? Who's been academic now? And how would I know? Wait" he pushes up on an elbow, suddenly excited.

"Am I the only gay experience you've ever had?"

Taeyong glares at him, but he can't hide the way he blushes furiously.

"Doyoung, I told you you'd be my first kiss, haven't I? And when else do you think I could have gone and worked out more experience like that? Between practices and all?"

Doyoung can't help the giggling fit. Taeyong punches on the arm and Doyoung offs, but he knows he deserves it. He raises his hands in front of his face in surrender.

"Okay okay, fine. You have a point"

Taeyong mumbles something under his breath. Doyoung ignores it and chuckles slightly. He sobers up a bit but doesn't really work - he chuckles some more and wiggles his eyebrows at Taeyong.

"I'm honored" 

"I damn well hope so!" Taeyong exclaims, almost glaring.

Doyoung can't help the newly triggered fit of giggling. Taeyong calls him a couple of names and then proceeds to punish him by tickling him - although that backfires drastically, because Doyoung managed to pin him and strikes back. Taeyong squeals and squirms the way one probably would during a sever seizure episode, and tries to order Doyoung to stop. Doyoung does relent, but only because he doesn't want someone walking in on them grappling on the bed.

He ends up pinning Taeyong to the bed, and licks the elder's forehead. Taeyong tries to swat him but he dodges, and slides back to his previous position, beside Taeyong. 

"So, you know what you should do, you coul try kissing them. Ad many of them as you want. Even all of them" he suggests.

Taeyong opens his mouth, looking at him, but doesn't reply. After a few seconds he closes it again, teeth clicking shut. 

He looks up at the ceiling, then back at Doyoung.

"You know what, I think I could"

"But it has to be clear that there's no string attached. If any of them misunderstand, then you're in for the biggest mess ever"

"You think they'd be jealous of one another?"

Doyoung raises his eyebrows: "You think Yuta and Jaehyun would not start fighting over you? Or even Johnny"

Taeyong blushes, and he can't help the smile. He blushes harder, covers his mouth with one hand and giggles.

"This feels really... Like one of those teenage drama, you know?"

"Be happy that the worst that can happen is that you'd look like a slut" Doyoung reprimands him.

"Well" Taeyong hums: "that'd be sort of a given. I mean, if I kiss someone, and I tell them that I'm going to kiss other six people too... But I don't care. They know me. And I don't want to play favoritism. I don't love any of them, and i don't think any of them love me like that"

Doyoung raises his eyebrows again.

"No, I mean... Not that much" Taeyong hurries to add.

Doyoung nods in agreement.

"Fair enough"

"I still feel sort of bad" Taeyong murmurs.

Doyoung sighs.

"You said it yourself. This awkward sexual tension? It's never going to disappear. We can try to act out on it and see what happens. I'm not saying go and have them gang bang you. But maybe this way you'd tighten the bond" he shrugs.

Taeyong snorts: "Or I mess us up entirely"

"That can happen, too, I'm not going to lie. But it won't, if you're clear" Doyoung advises.

Taeyong hums quietly, the way he does when he agrees, and doesn't want to voice it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, that part about Taeyong seducing anyone at 15? That's made up, obviously.


	7. Blowing On The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some action.

As a kid, Johnny has rarely believed in luck. On the one side, he knew he was a rather lucky person. On the other though, he didn’t like leaving things, things that he deemed important and dear to him, up to luck. He has always worked hard to achieve what he wanted to have. Priorities needed to be worked for. Secondary things, on the other hands, he did not and does not mind leaving up to luck.

Which means that, the moment he figured out Taeyong had suddenly opened the door for all NCT members and allowed increasing physical contact, Johnny’s priorities have restricted to being around Taeyong as often as possible, in order to enjoy the leader’s unusual higher tolerance for skinship. Secondary was how, what exactly Taeyong allowed him to do.

Johnny doesn’t know what’s happened inside Taeyong’s head, but something made him change his mind dramatically in the timespan of a week. The man has never been to delighted with contact, whether from men or women. He seemed to tolerate children or family and surely he was no Winwin, but even when he was the one initiating contact, he was also the one to end it. That was the Taeyong Johnny had met and learned to live with. Then the tweet happened, and Taeyong went into recluse mode. That had hurt – Johnny had hoped their bond was strong enough that his younger wouldn’t doubt him and think Johnny capable of hurting him. Johnny knows the same applies to the rest of NCT 127.

Anyway. All of a sudden, after a terrible week of spooked Taeyong, he and Doyoung came home and everything was back to normal. Suddenly Johnny and the others could speak with their leader again, or crack jokes or even make eye contact and Taeyong would not break it. Great, right? Johnny agrees. Only, Taeyong went farther than that, and started touching the members more and more. Casual, small things – a hand on the shoulder, fingers sliding through hair, adjusting hairstyles or just fondly combing strands out of their face.

Doyoung had been the first, but Johnny wonders if Tom and Jerry even realized what they were doing. Johnny knows that when Taeyong started being more physical with the rest of NCT it was intentional. With Doyoung though, he wonders how aware both Taeyong and Doyoung were. Those first times were painful to watch, for Johnny, and, Johnny knows, for Yuta, Jaehyun, even sweet, deep in denial Mark.

Taeyong would lean over Doyoung’s shoulder oh so casually, aligning his front to Doyoung’s back. He would take offered spoons of food to taste while they were cooking or when they were eating, and make eye contact in this intense way Johnny has never seen from either of them. Or Doyoung would suddenly reach out for Taeyong’s hands in the middle of their bickering and stroke Taeyong’s palm – and they would keep on bickering, even with Doyoung’s fingers stroking the palm of Taeyong’s hand between them, and Taeyong even turning his hand up or down as Doyoung wanted.

Yeah, that has been… painful, but also sort of low-key erotic to watch. Johnny might have jerked off to the thought of the two of them kissing hotly on the carpet in Taeyong’s room, progressively losing clothes.

But then Taeyong started with Haechan, started hugging him, reaching out for him and dragging him backwards until the maknae’s back was flat against his front, or just hugging him with a lazy arm around the younger’s hips. He would bump shoulder with Mark and sit very close to him, their knees always touching, apparently unaware of how the flustered mess Mark turned into. He would sit close to Taeil and Jungwoo and snuggle close to each. He would let Yuta hug him from behind and, instead of stepping out of the embrace, he would press against the Japanese boy. He would turn and hide his face in the crook of Yuta’s neck, Yuta’s arm sliding over Taeyong’s front, fingers caressing the part of Taeyong’s throat exposed.

And yes. Johnny has waited patiently that Taeyong made the first move towards him, but has snapped at some point and sort of met him in the middle. He just couldn’t wait, okay. And thank god he hasn’t waited. Because with the others? With them Taeyong was cute and made it all look casual.

But with Johnny and Jaehyun? With Johnny and Jaehyun Taeyong hadn’t even tried hiding how much of a bratty tease he was being. He would basically hug and all but rub himself against anyone else and look around until he made eye contact with either Johnny or Jaehyun. Or both. And then he would grin, this infuriating little smirk full of mischief that drove Johnny insane with the need to drag Taeyong off whoever he was cuddling and push him against the nearest wall and kiss him stupid.

At first he’s shared his pain with Jaehyun, both enduring this sort of torture with unspoken camaraderie. Jaehyun waited patiently for Taeyong to be confident to reach out for him, glared at Yuta whenever the Japanese boy would grin his way in this smug way, holding Taeyong close. Jaehyun waited and waited an waited, and held his breath whenever Taeyong got close and sighed in frustration when Taeyong would inevitably move away.

Johnny has done the same. But Johnny, contrarily to belief, is not an idiot, nor a masochist. The first time Taeyong grins flirty and bratty at him he is taken by surprise, but firm in his principle of letting the younger make the first move – he’s been the one spooked by Johnny, after all. But after the second and third time Taeyong played the same game, Johnny started wondering if Taeyong wasn’t, instead, trying to lure Johnny out. Make him snap.

So, next time Taeyong almost hugged him and in the end went to hug the person sitting next to Johnny (Jungwoo), Johnny took a calming breath, turned to speak with Mark, and placed both his hands on Taeyong’s hips. Not squeezing, just holding. And he might have looked engrossed in the conversation with Mark, but he’s heard the way Taeyong caught his breath.

That was how Johnny joined the touchy team. Jaehyun is the last one who Taeyong hasn’t taken to cuddle with yet. Until the day before, at practice. Johnny hasn’t meant to join Taeyong’s torturing Jaehyun program, but, Taeyong was just standing there. Johnny moved on autopilot, really, and the next thing he knew he had hands full of TY-beauty and a strong, firm body plastered against his front.

Yeah, admittedly, Jaehyun’s face has been funny. Not as funny as the one he’s made when he’s come down the high horse of his self-imposed chastity. Jaehyun can be really childish sometimes, at still looking adorable, like yesterday, with a lapful of Taeyong cradled (more likely firmly held in place) against his chest, stubbornly pretending to be focused on his discussion with Mark.

Johnny sips at his coffee, realizes the cup is empty and moves to drop it in the sink. Then decides to rinse it and put it in the washing machine himself. Yes, things can be strange, and change very quickly. Ten days ago they were a team of friends and almost a family. Suddenly, a hater tweets something mean and spiteful, they are dragged in the gutter for a couple days, Taeyong can’t look at anyone in the eyes anymore, and after another couple of days, everything goes back to normal. Okay fine, it has taken Taeyong longer than a couple of days, and Johnny is sure their leader must have done some deep thinking. But still. After what, a week? He comes back to the rest of NCT 127 warmer than he’s ever been to them.

And (and this is the thing), looking much more open to the idea of some extra bonding sessions. Something that won’t include trust fall on the arms of your members but a different form of groping.

Johnny straightens up. Oh boy, he hopes this isn’t him misunderstanding entirely, misreading the situation and getting his hopes up for nothing.

But, the thing is. He is pretty sure, if there ever has been a moment when his fantasies of having Taeyong ride his cock on the couch of fifth floor dorm looked anywhere close to possible, that’s right now.

He exhales slowly, blowing out air softly through his nose. And he snorts right after.

Leave it to Taeyong to decide boy on boy action is the best way to counterattack haters calling him the team fucktoy.

-

The team is gathered in a meeting room at SM headquarter. Manager-ssi is there as well, and so is the head stylist, his two assistants, a representative for the makeup noonas, and the guys from marketing and PR that never miss any such meetings. Even if all they do is either nod along whatever the head stylist says or voice debatable opinions based on data that most members would at least question.

Manager-ssi glares at the head stylist and even goes so far as to slamming his palm on the table. One of the stylist’s assistant startles and so does Taeil, at the opposite end of the table.

“I said no more leather and that was final. You cover them in that shit enough in half the MVs, you will not dress them as BDSM whores for a concert, too”

Beside Manager-ssi, Taeyong crosses his arms and grinds his teeth together. He seems this close to insulting the head stylist and in general agreeing with Manager-ssi, when suddenly his eyes widen and fill with light. Johnny notices the grin slowly coming up Taeyong’s lips and quietly elbows Doyoung, who sits between him and Taeyong.

Doyoung frowns, then turns to follow where Johnny is looking and stiffens. Eyes wide, mouth opening in a mute ‘oh, no’, with the face of someone who knows what’s about to happen.

“You know what, actually, this time it might not be a bad idea” Taeyong opines, almost jumping in his chair and grinning madly at the head stylist, in too feral a way to fool the other man into thinking Taeyong actually agrees with him.

Manager-ssi turns to Taeyong with both eyebrows so high they’re disappearing in his hairline.

“What?!”

“No, hear me out” Taeyong says, raising a hand and gesticulating: “after all, the tweet gave us a lot of publicity. If next time we're on stage we look like, as you said, BDSM whores, which by the way is a nice way to put it, haters are going to go wild with that. And if we look hot enough, our fans would like it too”

“What?!” Mark exclaims, from Johnny’s right: “Taeyong, have you gone mad? Shouldn’t we focus on conveying the opposite idea this time? To, you know, clean our names?”

Taeyong snorts and makes a dismissive gesture with the back of his hand: “Mark-ah, haters gonna hate, right? They’ve called us – actually, me, a whore, and spent the past… ten days?”

“Fifteen” Manager-ssi corrects.

“Fifteen. Fifteen days spitting venom after us. Burying us under whatever theory they could come up with. And how do Ncitizens react to that shit? Either they fight for us, which gives us good visibility, or they keep quiet because they get off thinking we are all gay for each other. Don’t make that face, Mark, you read the internet just as much as I do”

“I don’t think we should encourage that line of thinking” Mark replies, looking pointedly at his leader.

“Why not?” Taeyong asks, shrugging: “it’s never going to stop. We might as well exploit it. If we dress up in even more an allusive way than what we normally do, the fans would love it. Put a half-naked Jaehyun on the stage and Ncitizens are going to drool. Put a half-naked Jaehyun on stage with tight leather clothes and they’ll go mad. And if we all do it, then even the haters will talk about us – they’ll throw shit on us again, sure, but they’d do that anyway”

Doyoung groans and covers his eyes with one hand. Johnny is speechless – actually, he’s tempted to agree. Mark fidgets but doesn’t speak, preferring to just glare at Taeyong.

Manager-ssi looks tentatively at the NCT 127 leader, a hesitant expression on his face: “Taeyong-ah, are you sure this is a good idea? Think about yourself, please, think about your image. The haters barely stopped calling you names that I would never want my mother to read on the internet, or my future wife. Or my children. If we do like you and Park-ssi suggest, the shitstorm would start again”

Taeyong shrugs: “It would still have less strength than now, because it wouldn’t be new like it was last time. I’m pretty sure dispatch wouldn’t care, for starters. So we'll have people talk about us like that only in the short time. Give it a month and people will remember talking about us, but they won’t remember why. And we can use the promotions and all the interviews to reinforce a positive image of the group”

Manager-ssi doesn’t like it, but appears to be considering it.

“So you’re saying, you want to dress up like a BDSM whore for the big concert and then like a choirboy for all the other promotions and interviews?” one of the marketing guy surprisingly pipes up, sharp eyes fixed on Taeyong.

Taeyong nods and marketing guy purses his lips, thinks a bit, then he nods.

“Sounds like a good idea to me” he announces to the rest of team.

“What? No!” Mark exclaims.

“Uh, I don’t think it would be good” PR lady steps in, frowning at marketing guy: “you assume too much. What if it doesn’t go as you predict and people go on spitting nasty bullshit on the band?”

“True, noona, but, I wouldn’t be so quick to assume that would only mean bad publicity” Yuta points out: “the fans really love picturing us together, after all”

Mark groans loudly and all but smashes his forehead on the table.

“That… is true” Makeup noona agrees, sharing an apologetic look with PR noona.

“Oh, come on” Jaehyun bursts out, glaring at Taeyong and raising an accusing finger: “you cannot tell me that you’d willingly give them the chance to rain shit on us again. Not after it shook you that bad last time”

“But it wouldn’t bother me this time” Taeyong replies, firm.

“Are you sure? What if they say something worse?” Doyoung asks, sounding genuinely curious: “what if that bullshit ends up following you whatever you do? What if it leaks and extend to the rest of NCT? Or if it follows you when you’re promoting with SuperM?”

At that, Mark (Mark!) snorts loudly and raises an eyebrow, becoming the embodiment of sarcasm.

“Hyung, no offence, but that definitely wasn’t the thing to bring up. First of all because you don’t know how many SuperM fans would love to hear Taeyong and Baekhyun hyungs really are a thing. Taemin hyung too. And second because if Baekhyun hyung hears of this thing, you can rest assured that the next SuperM MV is going to be one-hundred percent porn. BDSM or not. And starring mainly him and Taeyong hyung here”

The giggling and laughter that follows might not have been what Mark was going for – the gaping and shocked expressions or the blushes were, more likely.

Taeyong is trying to hide behind his hands, failing miserably. He giggles loudly, face red between the laughing and embarrassment. Doyoung, beside him, sets his jaw in a very hard, uncomfortable looking line, cheeks pink.

“Oh, I am sure” he comments.

Johnny has to struggle to keep from laughing as well. He elbows Doyoung and wiggles his eyebrows at him. Manager-ssi clears his throat in the meantime.

“Okay, let’s not… let’s not think about that now. It still is a dangerous move. Maybe it goes as you said, Taeyong-ah, and maybe it doesn’t” he reiterates, putting the palm of his hand down as if trying to further stress his point.

Taeyong is back to serious now, and crosses his arms on his chest again.

“Park-ssi is the head stylist though, and both him and the marketing representant agree with me. I say we can risk this. I can handle this. And” he turns to look at Jaehyun, who is still glaring at him from his seat, lips pressed in a thin line: “this time we can control it. We can make sure we know what they are saying. Which means, the shit they say doesn’t get under my skin and we stay cool”

Jaehyun grits his teeth together: “That’s what you say now”

Taeyong glares back, with an intensity that Johnny finds almost unnerving: “No, Jaehyunnie. I promise”

In the silence that follows they can almost hear the air crackling, whatever Taeyong and Jaehyun are telling each other just by making eye contact. These too are so intense, Johnny thinks, watching Taeyong and discreetly turning to check Jaehyun as well.

With both being as stubborn as they are, it is a surprise when Jaehyun caves in and sighs, looking away.

“Jaehyunnie” Taeyong calls him again, bending slightly over Doyoung, reaching out with a hand to Jaehyun. Johnny looks at that outstretched arm slide before Doyoung and him. Strong, and yet so thin. The veins almost popping out. Hands elegant but strong, with long fingers and Doyoung’s ring sitting snug at the knuckle of Taeyong’s ring finger.

Jaehyun sighs again and hesitates before reaching out as well, hand clasping Taeyong’s tight. They make eye contact again and there they go making the air too hot a second time.

“You’ve promised, hyung”

Taeyong nods and smiles.

“Now” he says, letting go and turning back to the head stylist and Manager-ssi.

“We need to make sure we know what they are going to say”

Mark sighs, sounding close to pain.

“Please don’t make them say again I have a mommy kink with you. Please anything else. I don’t think I could look at my own mother in the eyes again, otherwise”

That’s too much for Johnny – he bursts out laughing. To be honest, so does almost everyone else.

-

“How do I bring it up with the others?”

Doyoung almost drops his water bottle. He turns to Taeyong with raised eyebrows and a confused expression.

“What are you talking about?”

Taeyong’s eyes dart around and he takes a step closer to Doyoung. The other members are all busy doing something else, mostly practicing last choreo, but he doesn’t want to risk any of them overhearing.

“… You know. The thing. The kiss thing”

Doyoung snorts: “You sound ridiculous” he informs his elder, and focuses again on recapping the bottle closed and putting it down.

Taeyong fidgets and huffs, impatient: “Just answer me”

Doyoung shrugs and raises his eyebrows again: “I have no idea, hyung. How would I know? I have never thought about kis-” he stops, noticing the way Taeyong’s eyes widen like saucers, and quickly checks that nobody is near them. For better measure he lowers his voice as well: “about doing that thing with seven different people”

Taeyong snorts: “You make it sound really bad”

“I don’t” Doyoung replies: “but it is admittedly something that you need to be careful. You said it yourself. You need them not to misunderstand”

Taeyong hums in agreement. He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes roaming.

“How do I just bring it up though?” he whines: “I need to talk to them, possibly all of them at the same time. But it’s hardly something you talk over dinner”

Doyoung nods: “Especially because if you did you’d only talk with half of them. The ones that would have dinner at our floor. Since I assume you don’t plan on ever mentioning this anywhere public. Right?”

Taeyong’s big eyes pin him with a hard expression: “Of course not. Imagine if anyone heard”

Doyoung shrugs in agreement, as if to say, that proves my point.

Taeyong huffs again and pokes Doyoung in the shoulder.

“Come on, Doie! Give me a good idea!” he whines.

Doyoung sighs and makes a frustrated sound: “I don’t know! Why would I know! Maybe we can” he stops and lowers his voice again, stepping even closer to Taeyong: “maybe we can mask it as a game? Whoever wins kisses you?”

He cringes at his own words.

“Yeah, no offence, but we are not doing that” Taeyong shoots that idea down: “quoting Jasmine, I’m not a prize to win” he points out, hand on his chest for more dramatic effect.

Doyoung snorts but agrees.

“I don’t know hyung”

Taeyong mulls it over, biting on the inside of his lower lip: “It’d be good to be drunk”

Doyoung shakes his head: “I don’t think so. You’ll want them sober to listen what you’re saying”

Taeyong makes a quiet sound of agreement. Then he sighs, looking away. Haechan has convinced Taeil to give him a piggy ride again. Taeyong snorts, eyes softening in a fond expression.

Doyoung shrugs and pats him on the arm: “Don’t sweat it, hyung. It’ll come to you”

-

It does. And it’s not even Taeyong having to bring it up, because it’s actually Jungwoo (Jungwoo, of all people) that breaches the subject.

They are all gathered in the living room of the dorm on the fifth floor, and it’s a tight fit. The couches are full, and some members are sprawled on the carpet as well. They’re trying to play Mariocart, but between how tired they are after the long day, and how full of food they are, it’s not much fun.

Haechan sends Jungwoo’s character flying. Jungwoo doesn’t seem bothered, barely notices actually. Instead he turns and tilts his head to the side, looking at where Taeyong and Doyoung are cuddled in the only loveseat.

“Taeyong hyung, I was thinking. If you want us to play naughty on stage. Shouldn’t we start practicing now?”

Haechan startles so hard he drops the controller. Mark’s character dies on screen but his owner doesn’t even see it, neck snapped towards Jungwoo.

“That wasn’t out of the blue, at all” Johnny comments, voice full of sarcasm and surprise.

“What the hell, Jungwoo?” Jaehyun asks, nodding along the question and hands shaking in time, as if to further stress, what the hell, indeed.

“I second that” Johnny quips, thumb pointed at Jaehyun.

Doyoung and Taeyong look at each other, holding eyes quietly for a couple of seconds. Doyoung shrugs, lips pulled down, as if to say, why not, and Taeyong nods, mirroring his expression.

He turns towards Jungwoo: “What exactly do you have in mind?”

Someone coughs in surprise, someone almost chokes – Mark, surely. Jungwoo shrugs.

Johnny looks at what he believed to be their most angelic member – he knew Jungwoo wasn’t as innocent as he played in front of the fans, true, but still.

“If the plan is to be explicit on stage, I’d like to know what I’m doing. We rehearse everything, don’t we? I need to know what to do if I’m supposed to grind on you on stage. Or whatever you plan us to do”  
Mark definitely chokes. Haechan dies on screen as well, but at this point nobody is watching the game anymore. Taeil’s mouth hangs open, jaw unhinged.

“Jesus, Jungwoo” Yuta snickers, blushing slightly.

Taeyong hums softly: “You have a point. But, the thing is, I haven’t decided what exactly we should do yet. I don’t want to be the one making that decision for all of us” he explains.

Doyoung lifts an eyebrow and shares a neutral look with Taeyong: “You’re right hyung, all of us should express what we want to do. What we feel comfortable with”

The neutral look morphs into a devilish grin.

It’s extremely unsettling to see that expression mirrored on both Taeyong and Doyoung’s face.

Johnny is slightly scared.

Taeyong looks around, eyes finding all of them.

“Well?” he asks: “what do you say, what do you feel comfortable with?”

Doyoung fights a snort and reverts to his neutral expression. He looks down, pretending to be engrossed with straightening a kink out of his joggers.

“I think we should start slow, hyung. I don’t know how many of us would feel comfortable with the idea of grinding against you or anyone else, without even having… I don’t know. Cuddled you a bit”

He raises his head again, meeting Taeyong’s eyes again. The look they share is full of mischief again, and seriously, what the fuck is going on, Johnny wonders. These two teaming up is extremely unheard of, and judging from this first experience, they’re even more dangerous than singularly taken.

“I think you should kiss us first” Doyoung suggests.

The smirk slips out of his control and twists his face in pure gloating. Taeyong grins back, eyes twinkling. Johnny wonders, for the first time, if these two little shits were actually planning this.

He’s more and more sure they were – every passing second seeming to prove it.

Taeyong tries to regain his composure and look unaffected, almost bored. He is a good actor, normally, but this time? Not so much.

“Would you like that?” Taeyong asks, dark, wide eyes pinning Jungwoo.

Johnny thinks he would probably melt under that stare. Taeyong’s black eyes are so intense, the air is crackling, full of fire, just like before, between him and Jaehyun. He tries to swallow as inconspicuously as he can manage, but his throat is dry.

Jungwoo pretends to consider that. He doesn’t fake it the good way they all know he could. He grins and hums, holding Taeyong’s gaze, and he nods.

“Yes, I very much would like that” he says.

Doyoung snorts at Taeyong’s side. The two of them make eye contact again. Taeyong bites at his lower lip, but can’t help the grin that’s creeping up his mouth, mirrored on Doyoung’s face.

Johnny is sure these two have planned it. So sure.

What the fuck.

Not that he’s going to complain though.

Taeyong turns to Jungwoo again: “I think you should come here and kiss me, then, Jungwoo”

Jungwoo doesn’t waste time. He stands and covers the few steps separating him from Taeyong in a couple of big steps, looking all of a sudden looming and primal in a way that’s a first. He kneels right beside Taeyong’s slightly splayed legs, hands on Taeyong’s knees, and bends forwards, smiling, invitingly.

Most of the people in the room are not breathing, with the main exception of the main actors themselves and, among the audience, Doyoung. He tilts his head to the side and raises his eyebrows.

“Well then, hyung. What are you waiting for? You got Jungwoo to come this far, now kiss him”

Taeyong blows him a raspberry, then turns and does just as Doyoung suggested. He kisses Jungwoo full on the lips, tilting his head to the side. Jungwoo tilts it to the other and pushes against Taeyong’s mouth, and it’s obvious they’re using tongue now. Jungwoo’s hands open and move from Taeyong’s knees, closing around his thighs instead. The elder grabs Jungwoo’s chin and holds him in place, but doesn’t otherwise seem to object Jungwoo’s exploring the inside of his mouth.

Doyoung’s pupils are blown out, eyes fixed on where Taeyong and Jungwoo are connected at their mouths.

The room is silent as the members watch. The sound the boys make when they end the kiss is quiet but echoes in the room.

“Fuck” Johnny mutters, before he can help himself.

“I agree” Jaehyun murmurs, after a while. His voice sounds even rougher than Johnny’s.

Jungwoo and Taeyong are still holding eyes, Jungwoo’s chin still in Taeyong’s hand, when Doyoung grabs Taeyong’s face and pulls him against his own, kissing him hard.

Taeyong moans oh so quietly and goes along with it, deepens the kiss, pushes until Doyoung ends up with the back of his head against the side of the loveseat. They break the kiss, both panting slightly.

“W… This one was better” Doyoung stutters.

Taeyong grins: “What was you’ve said last time? I always do thing impeccably?”

“No, I do things impeccably” Doyoung replies, scowling: “you don’t. You wing them and hope for the best”

“Ya, I winged it well now, though, mmm?” he teases, eyebrows wiggling.

Jungwoo actually snorts and starts giggling, folding over Taeyong’s legs and just staying there. His shoulders stop shaking in laughter, and he rubs his face in the meat of Taeyong’s thighs. He looks up at the older man with sparkling eyes, and Taeyong grins back.

Doyoung clears his throat and goes back to pretending to look uninterested.

“Okay, Jungwoo has had his kiss. Whose turn is it now?” he asks, first addressing Taeyong and then the rest of the room.

“You’ve had yours too” Haechan points out, trying to sound unaffected.

Doyoung shrugs.

“He’s had his days ago” Taeyong replies, no big deal, and that has everyone snapping their full focus back on him, Jungwoo included, who looks up from where he was still cuddling Taeyong’s legs.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks, then he glares at Doyoung: “are you telling me you’ve kissed him days ago?”

“I believe this is exactly what he said, yes” Doyoung replies, voice cool and eyebrow raised and fully aware of how snarky he looks when he combines this expression with this voice.

“You little shit, I wanted to be the first!” Jungwoo protests, but it’s covered by Haechan, Yuta and Taeil demanding when and where.

But Johnny knows the answer to those questions before Doyoung voices it, and, as he and Doyoung make eye contact, he knows he is right.

“You little fucker… it was the night you’ve brought him back after he fainted, wasn’t it? It was when we had that talk about the tweet”

“I still don’t like you calling that ‘a talk’, Johnny” Mark murmurs, but mostly goes ignored.

Doyoung shrugs, smirking like a Cheshire cat.

“So what”

“So you could have done that a little earlier, you asshole!” Jaehyun snaps, waving a hand in front of himself: “if you had kissed him sooner, we wouldn’t have spent a week like that!”

“No, actually, we kissed because Taeyong snapped out of his issues. Don’t think I made him do that” Doyoung protests, keen on stressing important details.

“Who kissed whom?” Haechan asks, grinning in an almost fond way at Taeyong and Doyoung both.

“I don’t care, I want my kiss now” Yuta exclaims, jumping to his feet.

“You – don’t you dare take a step” Jaehyun threatens him, standing up just as fast.

“Guys!” Taeyong exclaims, one hand carded through Jungwoo hair and caressing him rhythmically, the other raised in front of his face: “First of all, none of this territorial shit, thank you. Second of all, I am still here, and I said you can all have a kiss. So quit the macho play and just come here. Do rock paper scissors for all I care”

“I can go last” Johnny offers, looking first at Taeyong and then at Jaehyun and Yuta.

Both shrugs, as if to say, if you’re happy with that.

“Yeah, and I’m out for this. Sorry hyung” Mark pipes up, red in the face and eyes on the carpet.

Taeyong waits until Mark manages to meet his eyes and then nods.

“It’s fine, Mark. Don’t worry. Nobody is going to force you”

“You’re just an idiot and you might be wasting your only chance, though” Haechan points out, voice neutral and at the same time bordering on cruel.

“And you know you want to, so. Might as well cut the bullshit short and just enjoy the ride” Yuta adds with a very judgmental eyebrow.

“Leave him be” Jaehyun scowls, inserting himself between Yuta and Mark.

“Do we really do rock paper scissors?” Haechan asks Taeyong, fist already raised.

Taeyong shrugs.

Haechan kisses his closed fist muttering something about baby not disappointing daddy. Doyoung snorts at that, and turns to place a soft, chaste kiss on Taeyong’s jawline. From his crouched position of the floor, Jungwoo rubs his face on Taeyong’s legs again, then kisses the inside of a clothed thigh. Taeyong’s breath catches.

Jungwoo looks up with a knowing smirk. He looks almost like a predator, in a way that is completely unexpected. He crawls to the side, first going left, and then, when Doyoung pats his own legs, changing direction. He curls beside Doyoung’s legs and enjoys Doyoung’s long fingers petting his hair.

Haechan shouts in despair and Yuta growls, Jaehyun fist pumps the air and gloats, grinning at them and stalking smugly towards Taeyong. Taeil pats Haechan's shoulder – Taeyong doesn’t see after that, because his entire line of sight is filled with Jung Jaehyun, and the way his cheeks are almost blushing, his pupils dilate, and he seems frozen, standing in between Taeyong’s splayed knees.

Taeyong smirks lazily up at him, relaxing in his seat. He makes a gesture for him to crouch down, and Jaehyun swallows, rushing to comply. Jaehyun kneels in between Taeyong’s legs, hesitantly puts his hands where Jungwoo’s were only a few moments before. His dark eyes are trained on Taeyong’s face, shift from his eyes to his mouth repeatedly.

“Jaehyunnie” Taeyong calls him softly, one hand reaching out and cupping Jaehyun’s chin in a similar way to what he’s done with Jungwoo: “come here, Jaehyunnie”

Jaehyun goes. He closes his eyes even before his lips have touched Taeyong’s, and when they make contact both boys moan quietly. The kiss starts slow, not rushed and yet passionate. It’s as if both men wanted to learn as much as possible of the other’s mouth in the shortest time available. It gets heated quickly, tongues showing when they shift head this or that way, Jaehyun pressing against Taeyong and Taeyong’s hand moving from Jaehyun’s chin to fist his hair.

Jaehyun’s hands slide up along Taeyong’s thighs and claws at the muscles, ripping a soft sound from Taeyong’s throat, and in turns Taeyong pulls harder at Jaehyun’s hair, making him gasps against his lips.

“Shit, they’re so intense” Haechan mutters from somewhere in the room, and it works to remind both boys that they have an audience.

They break apart. They’re both panting slightly, a small trail of saliva still connecting them. Jaehyun grins and presses a chaste kiss on Taeyong’s lips, getting them rid of that. They smiles fondly, then Jaehyun clears his throat and pulls back.

Taeyong shares a look with Doyoung but doesn’t miss the way Jaehyun shifts his sweatpants as he moves away. Haechan and Yuta tease him and he flips them the bird, but he’s lost any real anger.

Taeil’s turn is different: it’s soft, light, it’s a pleasant kiss but not nearly as breathtaking as the one Taeyong shared with Jaehyun. Taeil’s hands stay on Taeyong’s kneecaps and when they break apart they giggle like teenagers.

Taeil moves aside, bowing to Yuta waving hands in direction of Taeyong, as if to say, your majesty, please.

Yuta drops to his knees in front of Taeyong and crawls the last meter until he is right in between the leader’s legs. He smiles his usual, dazzling smile and Taeyong mirrors it, eyes sparkling. Yuta places his hands on Taeyong’s kneecaps and then slides them down Taeyong’s thighs, filling his palms with the meat of Taeyong’s legs. He pushes up and hovers oh so close to Taeyong’s mouth, both grinning like idiots, both teasing each others.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this, right?”

Taeyong pretends to almost nip at his lips: “I have an idea”

After that they’re kissing.

It’s nothing like Taeil’s kiss, fun and light, and yet it’s not like the kiss with Jaehyun either. It’s hot and filthy and animal. It’s less about learning the other and more about enjoying the moment. It’s less about tasting and more about drowning into the feeling.

Taeyong doesn’t know how it happens, but the next thing he knows Yuta is in his lap, hands buried in Taeyong’s hair as he grinds down on him. From his new spot on the floor next to Jungwoo, Doyoung watches with raptured eyes, taking in the way Taeyong’s fingers slide through Yuta’s short hair and between his shoulders.

“Woah, hyungs!” Haechan exclaims after a while.

“Is someone recording this? Someone better be recording this” Jungwoo says in a cheerful voice.

Taeil is. So is Doyoung, since the last few seconds.

When Yuta and Taeyong break apart, they hold eyes panting, cheeks blushed and lips slicked with spit, both grinning like idiots.

“That was…” Yuta starts, and bites his lower lip, struggling with words. He just nods to himself, eyes roaming over Taeyong’s face.

His elder grins, smug: “Better than expectations?”

Yuta nods more and giggles: “Mainly because it really happened, and I did not expect that”

Taeyong laughs.

Haechan strides over, demanding that Yuta moves out of the way. The Japanese boy does, and Haechan doesn’t even pretend to go down his knees the way Jaehyun, Taeil and Jungwoo have done. He slides elegantly in Taeyong’s lap, lacing his hands behind Taeyong’s hands, and tries to make up for the fact he’s blushing with a cheeky grin.

“So, what are we gonna do here?”

Taeyong kisses the tip of his nose in retaliation, then presses a chaste, close lipped kiss on the younger’s mouth. Haechan tilts his head and parts his lips, shifting the pace immediately. The kiss turns heated and passionate, Taeyong’s hands creeping up Haechan’s back from under his shirt, and Haechan grinding his hips down on Taeyong’s in a sinfully slow, sensual movement.

Wolf whistles and cheering fill the room, but beside Haechan raising one middle finger from over his shoulders, without bothering to even slow down, they don’t get acknowledged.

When the kiss ends, Haechan’s gaze is unfocused and his cheeks are red. Taeyong looks at the maknae with pupils so dilated the irises have disappeared. His expression wouldn’t be out of place on a wolf that has the prey cornered. Haechan hesitates, holds his hyung’s eyes, doesn’t move from his place on Taeyong’s lap.

Johnny stands up quietly, turns to Mark with a raised eyebrow. Encouraging, and not prying. Not pushing. Silently asking if Mark really wants to miss this opportunity.

Mark hesitates.

He looks in direction of the kissing stage and realizes Haechan is gone, Taeyong now looking between Mark and Johnny. Not pushing, either.

Mark bites his lip. He holds Taeyong’s eyes and stands up without realizing. The members holler and wolf whistle and clap their hands but Mark doesn’t hear any of it. He walks to Taeyong as if in a daze, under a stupor. He reaches Taeyong and stops between his splayed knees. He looks down at the man he considers an older brother, his hyung, and wonders.

For just one second, his eyes focus entirely on that swollen, abused lower lip and wonders.

The pink tip of Taeyong’s tongue moves slowly over that lip, leaving it even wetter. Mark watches, unable to look away, and his eyes travel further up, ending up stuck in Taeyong’s dark ones.

Taeyong offers the palm of a hand, equally inviting Mark down and leaving him the opportunity to walk away.

Mark should do that. Mark should walk away.

But he doesn’t.

In one fluid movement he is on Taeyong’s knees and pushes against that pink mouth, kissing it fervently, hands slipping in Taeyong’s hair. His hyung startles slightly, opens his mouth by surprise, and Mark doesn’t waste the chance.

The kiss is deep and hot, and Mark’s brain is empty. Silent. Void of anything that isn’t the way Taeyong tastes, smells, feels under his hands and tongue.

Strong arms embrace him, long-fingered hands hold Mark by the hips. Mark kisses and kisses and kisses, until his lungs are burning, doesn’t hear himself gasping and wonders how long he can go without oxygen before passing out, he just doesn’t want to stop.

When Taeyong breaks the kiss, Mark whines. And blushes scarlet right after, hiding his face in the crook of his hyung’s neck. Taeyong’s hands caress the back of his head and down his back, and Mark tries not to think how much the way he’s holding Taeyong, arms around his neck, resemble the way a child would a parent.

He just kissed the closest thing he has to an older brother. And he doesn’t regret it in the least.

He grins against Taeyong’s cheek and drops a kiss there. He straightens up and meets Taeyong’s eyes. He hold his hyung’s gaze for as long as Taeyong needs, as the older watches Mark’s face to try and detect any sign of discomfort or regret.

He doesn’t find any.

They smile, fond and dorky and blushing.

Then Mark kisses Taeyong’s forehead, stands up and musters all the swagger still in his possession to casually walk away and fall on a couch. Haechan starts patting his head immediately after.

But the attention of the room shifts, on Johnny this time. Who stands up again, straightens his joggers, his shirt, and looks down at Taeyong.

On the loveseat, looking like a disheveled king, Taeyong’s expression sobers. The blush on his cheeks deepens, and the small grin doesn’t hide how badly he wants what’s about to happen next.

Johnny smirks, predator and fond at the same time, slides his hands in the pocket of his pants.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’m going to fit on your knees, Taeyongie, sorry. I’m afraid you’re going to have to stand up for me, your majesty”

The air is suddenly hot and crackling with energy again, legs are crossed and uncrossed, pants shifted in the crotch area.

Taeyong swallows, bites his lip. Frenetically thinking if there is any way for him to save face.

There probably isn’t.

He stands.

Johnny’s grin is one hundred percent devil and wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger much?


	8. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something hot, something not.

Johnny is tall. That’s a fact Taeyong doesn’t like, but has learned to put up with. That’s hardly news, is what he means. But, having Johnny loom over him like this, is another matter of things entirely.

Taeyong is rooted on his spot, standing stiffly before the loveseat he’s risen from. Kissing the members while sitting there gave him a sense of power – of being in control, with the others crawling closer and closer and even climbing his knees, sitting up in Taeyong’s lap like children. Or kissing him down on their knees, like worshipping a god.

Taeyong is hardly the type for power play but. You know, it was hot. It was hot, being the object of their entire attention. Being the one and only thing their eyes were seeing. Having them lean over and kiss him and not daring touch him more than what he allowed – or what they thought they were allowed. 

Having sweet Mark or Haechan in his lap, grinding down on him and kissing him as if they wanted to learn the inside of Taeyong’s mouth like a prophet would the word of god. 

Having Yuta lean over and moan softly, sparkling eyes and full smile promising good fun the day Taeyong will decide to take the Japanese boy for a tumbling session in someone’s sheets.

Having Doyoung, proud and confident, lick into his mouth and surrender under Taeyong’s ministration, unable to question the even ground they stood on, accepting Taeyong as equal, the bickering cast aside to enjoy their bond. 

Having Jungwoo, tall and hot, made of soft smiles and suggestive looks and sculpted abs and strong arms – having him kneeling at his feet and reaching up for Taeyong.

Having Jaehyun, bulky arms and too-well shaped chest, chiseled body and perfect face, soft eyes and alluring persona, having Jaehyun on his knees at Taeyong’s feet, hands clasped around Taeyong’s thighs as if he wanted, but didn’t dare. Feeling the passion that made Jaehyun what he was – who he was, and knowing he had complete control over it. Feeling the way Jaehyun’s body burned with the need to drown Taeyong under it, and being the one who was keeping it restrained.

Yeah. Never been one for power play, but. Taeyong doesn’t think anyone would blame him for the rush to the head he’s got after that.

It’s difficult to say if it can compare to this. Having Johnny – tall, strong, muscular Johnny loom over him, barely an inch between their chests, this close, with that smirk, with those eyes.

Johnny’s eyes are kind, always. But they always have that hooded way of looking at the world, Taeil calls it Johnny’s bedroom eyes. It’s very fitting, Taeyong thinks. Taeyong finds he agrees even more than usual, right now, this close to the face they belong to, and being the sole object they pin on.

Taeyong swallows around his dry throat but it doesn’t work. There is no saliva left in his mouth. His throat feels like sandpaper. Johnny is tall – taller than him, and what do you know? Taeyong always hated the reminder of how smaller he himself was, how scrawny he looked, next to Johnny’s big arms. But now… now he likes it.

He fucking loves it.

He swallows again. The room is silent, or maybe the members are having whispered fun at him, at the way he looks like a deer caught in the lights of the car approaching, at the way Johnny looks like the tiger ready to pounce on him.

Taeyong shivers, because he realizes, in that metaphor, Johnny is the tiger, and Taeyong is the prey.

And, guess what. It’s hot, being at the receiving end of that stare.

This isn’t like Baekhyun’s flirty and teasing stare, sort of condescending, the way his hyung looks at him knowing he’s got Taeyong wrapped around his finger.

This isn’t like Jongin’s smouldering dark eyes, pouty lips, when he and Taeyong make eye-contact during a shooting and Taeyong shivers and wonders if he’d ever see those eyes other than during a shooting.

This is at the same time better and worse.

Johnny’s face shifts, the smirk disappearing and morphing into pure hunger. There is something at the bottom of those clouded eyes, pupils dilated, something akin to worship and incredulity, but Taeyong can’t look deep enough, can’t hear past the rush of blood that fills his ears, his brain is empty of any sound other than his own lust, clawing at his chest.

Unconsciously, he licks his bottom lips, pushing it out. Johnny’s eyes zero right onto it, all pupils, the irises gone, following the tip of Taeyong’s pink tongue, watching it retreat behind Taeyong’s parted lips, front teeth descending and biting on that same plump lip…

And Taeyong loves being praised, looked with reverence, but he’s had enough of this waiting.

He takes the final step, pushes on the tip of his toes, places his hands on Johnny’s hips and crashes against Johnny’s wide chest. He reaches out almost blindly, eyes falling shut about halfway as his body moves as if it knew the way. Johnny meets him in the middle, bending down and easily finding his mouth, lips crashing blindly and opening almost instantly, tongues rushing in each other’s mouth.

Taeyong moans, startled at the contact and the feeling, Johnny’s hands branding him like scalding iron as one slides down his clothed back – he shivers, wondering how that would feel if he was naked. The hand falls on the small of his back, and pushes Taeyong closer, until he is chest to chest with Johnny, their thighs pressed, and Taeyong moans into Johnny’s mouth as he feels the hard proof of Johnny’s pleasure.

The hand Johnny has on Taeyong’s back slides further down, cups his ass and uses it to push the smaller boy even closer. Taeyong gasps softly but it’s soundless, eaten up by Johnny’s greedy mouth, tongues exploring every crevice and nook of Taeyong’s mouth. Taeyong’s head spins, and he doesn’t know if it’s the lack of oxygen or knowing that Johnny wants him this much. Johnny’s other hand crawls into Taeyong’s hair and keeps his head in place, forcing Taeyong to bend the way Johnny likes, and just take it. Taeyong moans again, cheeks pink and knees suddenly too weak to carry him, and it’s a good thing they are so close: the moment Taeyong’s legs tremble Johnny becomes the only thing keeping him standing.

Johnny growls against his lips, open mouthed, teeth biting down Taeyong’s jaw and pressing wet, open-mouthed marks along the sharp bone. Taeyong thinks he might catch wolf whistles and hollers and encouragements but he isn’t sure, and honestly he couldn’t care less, not when Johnny’s hand moves from the back of his head, joins the other on Taeyong’s ass and start groping him as if it’s the next best thing in this world. Taeyong mewls softly in appreciation, head bending backwards following the push and pull of Johnny’s lips, tongue and teeth. He decides he needs Johnny’s tongue back in his mouth, cards his hands into Johnny’s black, thick mane and forces him to go back to kiss him – which Johnny promptly does.

The hands on Taeyong’s ass squeeze firmly and suddenly Taeyong’s feet aren’t touching the ground anymore, and he gasps and breaks the kiss, only for Johnny to recapture him right after. Johnny goes on devouring his mouth, unbothered by the fact that now that he’s picked the smaller man up, he truly is carrying Taeyong’s entire weight. Taeyong undulates against Johnny’s chest, the movement forcing Johnny’s hands on his ass to spread their fingers and hold him even more. Johnny doesn’t mind – he bites at Taeyong’s lower lip, one strong arm sneaking under Taeyong’s bottom to hold him, the other kneading at his cheeks. Taeyong crosses his ankles, encircling Johnny’s strong body with his lean legs, and he wonders, how would that feel without clothes, lying down on a bed, Johnny not having to carry his weight but being able to push into him.

He breaks the kiss, the sound echoing wet and loud in the room, and he’s left breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling like after a long practice session, yes still locked into Johnny’s, hands still clasped behind Johnny’s back.

He swallows, and it’s way wetter now than before, an almost invisible thread of saliva stretching from his lips to Johnny’s. Johnny grins, presses a quick kiss onto Taeyong’s lips, and then another.

Taeyong blushes now. He is sure his face is red already, after the heavy make-out session, but he blushes even more now that he can hear the hollers, the moans and the swearing from the rest of the members. Jaehyun looks at him and Johnny with clouded eyes and legs splayed, hand massaging the bulge that strains the front of his pants without an ounce of shame, head tilted back.

Close to him, Mark and Haechan have slipped a hand down each other’s legs and are looking at Taeyong and Johnny with eyes wide, pupils blown.

Even icy, composed Doyoung is red in the face, he and Jungwoo with hands roaming each other’s bodies and eyes locked onto Johnny and Taeyong. 

Johnny kisses Taeyong’s temple.

“Look at them” he whispers, wicked and softly, only for Taeyong to hear: “look at what you do to them”

Taeyong shivers in his arms, gasps softly.

Jaehyun swears softly under his breath, everyone’s attention snapping on him, taking him the way Yuta’s hand has joined his and they’re kissing passionately, both keening and groaning and sounding close to the end.

Jaehyun breaks the kiss and tilts his head, eyes finding Taeyong’s again, lips parted. Yuta’s hand doesn’t slow, and neither does Jaehyun’s in between Yuta’s legs, the Japanese boy moving to kiss along Jaehyun’s jaw and neck.

“Come” Taeyong mouths to Jaehyun: “Come, Jae” he repeats, louder, and it triggers more people than he intended.

Jaehyun groans and spreads his legs, eyes rolled back as he's lost to pleasure. Yuta moans, a soft, stuttered sound, coming quietly and bending over Jaehyun’s shoulder, panting. Haechan and Mark turn to each other, foreheads pressed together as their bodies shiver and shake. Even Doyoung and Jungwoo tremble and gasp, eyes closed and dry humping each other until it’s too much. Only Taeil seems to make it through, and lies on the floor, knees trembling open and panting, but still hard, eyes blown black.

Johnny swears softly and nibbles at Taeyong’s earlobe, less affected by Taeyong’s order only because he’s got their leader’s body pressed against his own, and can feel Taeyong is just as hard as he is – Taeyong can’t win any game of power play with him, not now.

Taeyong whines softly, squirming against Johnny’s chest, mewls pitifully, his cock so hard it hurts, and Johnny bites open-mouthed at the sharp line of his jaw again.

“You’re a little sex demon, Yongie” he whispers, biting harder, making Taeyong gasps again.

“I’m going to drop you any seconds now. Spread you on the floor and make you come”

Taeyong flinches, squirms, shakes again in his grasp, eyes blown.

“Please” he begs, softly.

“Please” he repeats, and it sounds like an order, but Johnny doesn’t mind.

He stops smirking, looks very serious now, and drops Taeyong down so quickly the smaller man almost collapses to the floor.

And then? Then, Johnny keeps his promise.

Taeyong comes with his mouth parted in a ‘o’ shape, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and legs trembling, spread open under Johnny’s body, hands clawing at Johnny’s naked back. His nails rake up and down Johnny’s tanned skin as Taeyong trashes in ecstasy, clawing so deep that the day after, when Manager-ssi, completely by chance, sees the marks, the normally composed man startles and swears, and asks Johnny if he’s had an encounter with a tiger.

-

The concert is in three days.

Three fucking days.

To say the members are stressed is an understatement. Sleep is something they are no longer familiar with. Food is whatever they can swallow as quickly as possible, in between practice sessions, dance rehearsals, music tunings, soundchecks. Even the stylists, who usually leave the boys alone so close to the performance, have suddenly decided they cannot have the members go on stage with the outfits they’ve planned.

The stage changes twice in locations, for reasons that are crystal clear to the company but the members and Manager-ssi ignore, and the choreographers need to figure out in two days how to adapt routines that require a lot more space than what the members will have, in the end.

Sleep is a chimera, a mirage. They fall asleep passing out exhausted on whatever surface they can rest their head on, even the most questionable ones. More often than not the three elders have to pick a younger member from the floor or a very uncomfortable looking wooden chair. Mark wins the unspoken competition when he falls asleep standing, hunched over and with his forehead pressed on the mirror-wall of the elevator.

Johnny aches all over, he can’t wait for the big night to be over, he is so hungry – he can’t eat now, their diet becomes even stricter when they’re this close to a show, and Johnny knows better than breaking the rule because two out of the three outfits he’s supposed to wear show his stomach and he needs it flat, needs to look the definition of hot, and if this means that he’s fucking starving, eh. He’s got worse. They all have. He and Jaehyun have been hitting the gym together everyday for a week now, some days even more than once. Sometimes Jungwoo joins – he’s got to show a lot of abs, too.

It’s probably worse for members like Taeyong though. He is supposed to wear crop-tops and see-through clothes, and he needs to look thin and as ethereal as he can, which means he needs to keep away from big meals even more than Johnny, Jaehyun or Jungwoo.

They are tired, hungry, running mostly on adrenaline. Two days before the performance Manager-ssi suggests taking drops to help them fall asleep and, one after the other, all members have to resort to them.

But finally the night comes.

Finally.

-

They put on their first outfits. Manager-ssi twists his nose at the chains, black leather and vinyl. He’s fought a lot with the head stylist for this particular outfit. After capitulating and accepting that the members will go on stage looking like they’ve come straight out of a BDSM club, he insisted they didn’t need to look this obscene. He’s got a point – most clothes are far from comfortable, and none of the boys would ever be caught wearing anything remotely close to this in normal, daily life, but.

This is for the sake of the show. This is the personas they have to play.

Johnny and Jaehyun help each other with the chains, disentangling them and laying them out the way they are supposed to. Jaehyun needs to pay particular attention to the one around his neck or he will end up choking himself.

Haechan, in a corner, is making a quick live session. He jokes with his audience and winks at the camera. He promises Ncitizens they will be surprised when they’ll see them on stage. His eyes sparkle and he is barefaced as he promises it, not giving his viewers any clue.

Johnny thinks he isn’t faring too bad – he is wearing something similar to his Bruce Lee outfit he wore for the Kick it MV, only in leather and with chains that have no real purpose and that would actually be dangerous if someone ever tried fighting with it. Jaehyun's one looks a bit more like what he wore for Punch.

Doyoung spins around, Yuta wolf-whistling and Taeil clapping obnoxiously, Mark laughing hysterically.

“You look like a fucking dom” he points out.

Doyoung caresses his outfit, smoothing down invisible creases. He raises his nose in the end and looks at his dongsaeng with his lofty expression.

“I look hot, is what you mean”

Johnny takes the outfit in and bites his lip to keep himself from commenting. Jaehyun raises his eyebrows and snorts skeptically.

“I can already tell the number of fanfictions with you as a top is going to skyrocket, thanks to this outfit”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to know what mine will do to me” Taeyong comments, from where he stands in front of the mirror, having just emerged from the black tent they change behind of.

And well.

Several pairs of eyes drink in the sight, mouths gaping, throats dry. Johnny clicks his teeth shut and grinds on them so hard it almost hurts.

Taeyong is wearing the crop-top outfit. His pants are so tight they might as well have been painted on. A silver, thin-ringed chain is securely wrapped along his left leg, making the limb look even thinner, and the muscle of the thigh stand out in a way that should not be this sexy. Between the chain and the tight-fitting leather, it’s a wonder he can walk.

The crop top is black lace, decorated with a flower motif so light and see-through it could be made of spiderwebs. Johnny’s mouth goes suddenly dry when he realizes the pink buds he sees from under the thin lace are Taeyong’s nipples.

He wishes his body did not enjoy the sight as it obviously does, because there’s no room in his pants for an erection the size like his. A subtle ruffling of leather at his right attracts his eyes, just in time to see that Jaehyun is shifting his own hardon in his equally tight pants.

“Fuck hyung, you look hot” Yuta murmurs, eyes roaming Taeyong’s body and having particular trouble with the thick leather choker resting on Taeyong’s neck.

Manager-ssi snorts loudly, breaking the moment. He steps close to Taeyong with stiff, quick movements and reaches out with his hands, motioning at the choker. The fib is only loosely fastened and Taeyong won’t be able to tie it himself – he tips his chin down on his chest and offers Manager-ssi better access.

The man sets to work without wasting time – but when he’s done his eyes fall on the reflection in the mirror, taking in the slim, lithe body in front of him, and he swallows. Suddenly he doesn’t look as annoyed, focus-minded as he did only a moment prior: he grimaces, shame and guilt clear on his face, and when Taeyong makes eye contact the man can’t hide the way his pupils have dilated.

Taeyong's smile withers, his face schooled in something blank the members aren’t familiar with, and he looks back at the older man, silent, eyes big and wide, head still slightly tilted down. The air is crackling hot, but the members don’t understand why. They watch, not daring to speak, and wait.

Manager-ssi clears his throat nervously and steps away.

“You look… you look good” he admits.

Taeyong looks at him – no, he stares, pinning Manager-ssi with eyes dark and almost tempting, almost daring, and then he smiles, a self-conscious sound the others rarely have heard from him – beside Doyoung.

“Is that what you were really thinking?” he asks, challenging.

Manager-ssi holds his eyes for a few seconds, swallowing. Then he shakes his head and grins, embarrassed and self-reproaching.

“No. I was thinking how I’ll probably go to hell when I die”

He says it as a joke, but the words are serious enough – and even more clear, not just to Taeyong. Doyoung’s eyes widen, and so do Yuta’s. But Taeyong isn't angry, even after the blatant admission of what, in the end, he’s always known – instead, he smiles, softly, almost comforting.

“I don’t know. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a lot of other people headed that way. And they deserve it much more than you”

Manager-ssi swallows again, or tries in vain, it’s not clear – and looks away. Taeyong lets him leave, redirecting his attention to Haechan and Mark, at his right. He spins around and grins, switching to his bratty, mischievous self.

“So? How do I look? Am I hot enough?” he asks – Doyoung wonders if he’s teasing them, gloating or if Taeyong really doubts, even a tiny bit, that he might not be.

What a ridiculous thought indeed. Taeyong looks so hot it’s bordering on blasphemous.

“Hyung” Haechan breathes through his parted lips, eyes pinned on the single ring at the front of the choker.

“If the internet isn’t all over you tomorrow, I’ll be damned” Yuta comments, as he unashamedly stares at Taeyong’s fine ass, inside those pants.

“Fuck Yongie” Johnny swears, nodding.

He reaches down with a hand inside his pants, trying to shift his definitely hardening cock in a way he won’t be broadcasting it too much to their audience out there. He isn’t aiming for subtlety, so it’s no surprise when the others catch him in the act and laugh, Taeyong included. Their leader blushes, meeting Johnny’s eyes and smirking a little, when he realizes that he’s affecting Johnny that much.

The tense atmosphere is deflated, the members relax – as much as they can when they are literally minutes from going on stage.

“Yeah hyung, you look hot. Now can you please stop teasing us? My pants are really too tight for an erection now” Jaehyun comments snarky, crossing his arms on his chest.

The bulge at the crotch of his pants hasn’t gone down much, and it's well emphasized by the position Jaehyun assumes, arms crossed. The laughing continues. It doesn’t escape Jaehyun that more than a pair of eyes looking his way are full of envy and lust.

-

Later that night, NCT break the internet.

The concert is still ongoing but fans upload so many pictures and videos of the performances instagram ends up malfunctioning and crashing for a good half an hour in half Korea. Twitter’s most trending hashtags for the night and the day after (before something gets out of hands again in the US and steals everyone’s attention) are incomprehensible for non-Kpop fans, something about crop-tops, chains and Jesus. Google registers an unusual spike in interest in BDSM terminology.

Someone uploads a ten seconds, low-quality video of two boys grinding on each other on youtube. The most seen video in the gay category on Pornhub is a better quality, fifteen seconds of Lee Taeyong, front-man of NCT, during the performance of Whiplash. The title is, Korean twink gets nailed by hunk while singing. The video shows the leader on the floor, his hands pinned above his head by a much bigger fellow member, who looks very comfortable between the leader’s open legs, and grinds down on the boy under him as if it was the best thing in the world.

Byun Baekhyun posts one of these better quality, longer videos on his Instagram profile, praising the way Taeyong actually remembered the lyrics in such a straining situation.

Yunho of TVXQ announces he wants another collaboration with Lee Taeyong, this time including that one fellow member of his that manhandled Taeyong on stage during most songs – the one with the chains, the fake neck tattoo and the soft, sensual voice.

Haters don’t waste time, they use the same material the fans post to spread nasty comments, but they drown in the sea of NCitizens’ enthusiastic posts.

All in all, everything goes according to plan.

-

After the show, Manager-ssi rides with the members in the car.

He is proud of them and happy that it’s turned out the way they planned – hoped it would. He has spent the few hours of the concert laughing like an idiot with the rest of the staff as the boys had their fun on stage, and had to remind them to still keep it PG only twice. In the car, he lets them joke freely, pretends he doesn’t hear the lewd jokes and the swearing.

When they arrive at the dorms building Manager-ssi informs them he won’t join them upstairs, which is basically his way to tell them they are free to do whatever they please. He trusts them and they deserve freedom – plus, they are currently so tired they will probably have as big a meal as they can and collapse right after. He is fully aware a party to celebrate the show is being planned, but he doesn’t care. That probably will happen tomorrow, so he might as well take his leave now.

They get out of the car, bid him good night, and he nods along to whatever joke they make. The last to leave is Taeyong, who stops halfway through the car door and shed the jacket he's wearing. He gives it back to the older man, smiling softly.

“Thanks” he simply says.

Manager-ssi takes his own jacket back, and nods.

“You’re welcome”

Taeyong smiles again, big, dark eyes sparkling, and leaves.

As the door closes shut, Manager-ssi feels forgiven, and his chest lighter with relief.

-

He switches off the TV. He closes every tab on the computer, and uninstalls Instagram, Twitter, bubble. Every platform, every social media he used to follow NCT and adorable, perfect Lee Taeyong.

He sighs, breathes through his nose.

He thinks of the meds in the bathroom cabinets that he refuses to take because he doesn’t believe what his doctor says, and maintains he is just a normal person.

He just loves harder, stronger, more. And love has never hurt anyone, never killed anybody.

He breathes and counts to one, two, three, ten.

His eyes are closed but betray him, replaying in loop the scene of Jaehyun, grinding against Taeyong, and perfect, beautiful Taeyong baring his throat for hundreds of viewers, resting the back of his head against Jaehyun’s forehead.

He tries to focus on the ecstatic expression on Taeyong’s face and not on Jaehyun’s possessive hands around Taeyong’s narrow hips.

He tries not to think about Taeyong, sighing softly under Johnny as he sang Whiplash with Johnny grinding on him, mimicking fucking beautiful, perfect Taeyong.

His teeth grind, making a loud noise.

His. Beautiful, perfect Taeyong. His. His. His. Only his.

Beautiful, perfect Taeyong.

Beautiful, pure looking Taeyong. Whoring himself out on a stage, letting those two touch him. Letting all the others touch him, too.

Beautiful, pure, perfect Taeyong who let them corrupt, taint him.

He needs to save his angel, before they ruin him.

Yes, yes. He must save him.

Yes.

He slams his hands on the table. The noise echoes in the silent room.

-

The room is full of laughter. At this point, nobody is sober anymore.

Food containers are piled haphazardly on the kitchen counter, and the members are spread on every available surface in the living room. Haechan, Mark and Yuta packed on the longer side of the couch, Jungwoo and Taeil on the shorter one. Doyoung and Johnny are sharing the loveseat. Johnny sits with his knees splayed open to make space for Jaehyun, who is snuggled right in between them, Johnny’s long legs encasing him, and Taeyong is all but sprawled on Jaehyun’s front, head resting on Jaehyun’s collarbone.

They are still eating, but not with their previous, ravenous need, sated about twenty minutes in after the food has arrived.

“Shit, it’s been good” Mark comments, throwing his empty plate on the coffee table at his feet.

He crosses his ankles, legs splayed in front of him. Haechan and Yuta pile their plates on Mark’s and cuddle closer to him, resting their heads on Mark’s shoulders, one each.

“You keep that side” Yuta tells Haechan, finger pointed.

Haechan nods and offers his hand to shake.

“What’s going on?” Mark asks, confused, smiling with only a little bit of worry – because he knows both these two, and them shaking hands with those expressions means danger.

“They’ve just shook hands on how to divide you in the threesome you didn’t know you’re having” Taeil drawls, smirking and relaxing in his seat.

Mark laughs hysterically, thinking it’s a joke, but then he notices the way Haechan and Yuta share a grin over his chest and he stutters, blushing madly.

“Guys! What! No!”

“Ssssht, Markie, don’t worry” Yuta grins at him, waving his hand in a dismissive way and smiling like a wolf. Haechan mirrors that smile, looking every ounce the little devil he is.

“Hyungs! Someone help!”

“Yeah, sorry Mark” Johnny smirks, placing an arm behind Doyoung’s shoulders: “I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to get in between you and them”

“What! Johnny! Traitor! Jaehyun, come on! Help me! Taeyong hyung!”

“Uhu, no, sorry Mark-ah” Jaehyun answers, grabbing both his plate and Taeyong’s and throwing them on the coffee table. He slips his hand under Taeyong’s chin, takes it in firm fingers and grins at Mark, shrugging: “I don’t think Taeyong will have the time to help you”

“I won’t?” Taeyong asks, raising one eyebrow and looking up at Jaehyun, a challenge clearly written on his face.

“No, hyung, you won’t” Jaehyun repeats, voice deeper, almost a growl, face descending on Taeyong’s until they are barely a few centimeters apart.

Taeyong beams, gloating: “And why would I not help poor Mark?” he asks, bratty.

Jaehyun smiles back, and it’s all predator: “Because you’ll be busy with me” he replies suggestively.

Jaehyun kisses him, and Taeyong melts in his arms.

The members start with the, by now, usual chorus of holler and wolf whistles, but neither Jaehyun nor Taeyong hear any of that ruckus – Jaehyun rolls them over so that he has Taeyong under himself, slips a knee behind the elder’s thighs and grinds down between Taeyong’s legs. Taeyong wraps his legs around his back, dragging Jaehyun closer and pushing his hips upwards to meet his thrusts.

The kiss is passionate, wet and hot, and Taeyong thinks he might be moaning but he doesn’t care. Jaehyun breaks away and starts licking and placing open-mouthed kisses all along his jaw, and bites at the tender spot right under Taeyong’s ear, making the elder squirm.

“Fuck, Jae” Johnny murmurs, looking down between his legs, where the kissing boys are sprawled.

Jaehyun moves that tiny bit that allows him to see Johnny if he looks up from Taeyong’s neck. He makes eye contact with Johnny, making sure the other sees him licking Taeyong’s neck and biting at the reddened flesh. Taeyong shifts imperceptibly for the same reason, offering the sight of himself to Johnny, as well. Jaehyun grins, hidden by Taeyong’s neck, but Johnny sees it anyway.

“You little brat, you’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you? Humping Yongie right from between my legs?” Johnny asks, grinning darkly, voice going low and velvety.

The room is hot again. Beside Johnny, Doyoung shifts and pushes his hands on Johnny’s front, slides them up and down the elder’s chest. He nibbles at Johnny’s earlobe and Johnny can feel him smirking against his cheek, as he makes eye-contact with Taeyong.

“Don’t worry hyung, we can make them jealous too” he hums, and Taeyong groans loudly under Jaehyun, half because of Jaehyun’s ministration, half because of Doyoung.

“Let’s see who makes them come first?” Jaehyun challenges, smiling predatorily at Johnny: “Me, Taeyong, or you Doyoung”

Doyoung lifts a single eyebrow, looking every little bit the ice prince he is, but it’s ruined by the way he gasps and blushes when Johnny wraps his big hand around his throat.

“Oh, you’re on” Johnny accepts, still grinning madly, eyes fixed on Jaehyun's.

At his feet, Taeyong moans louder and drags Jaehyun back down, to kiss him properly.

“Intense” Jungwoo whispers-shouts at Taeil, elbowing him repeatedly, Taeil nodding furiously.

On the other side of the couch, Mark, Haechan and Yuta alternate between watching the show and getting their own fill of hot, wet kisses.

Jungwoo and Taeil share a look, then they both whips their phones out.

“You get them, I get this” Jungwoo suggests. He looks longingly at his left, where Johnny, Jaehyun and the other two are, and sighs. Taeil follows his gaze, mouth open in surprise, turns again, looks at Jungwoo as if he’d told him he could have the last drops of water in the desert.

“Thanks man” he whispers.

Jungwoo sighs, pursing his lips and nodding. Then he turns and starts recording the other group making out on the couch, Mark-Haechan-Yuta.

At least they’re really hot too, he thinks.

-

In the man’s dream, Taeyong screams.

In his dreams Taeyong always screams.

Then he cries, he pleads, he begs.

Then the man forgives him, and tells him he will take him back.

Taeyong whimpers and sobs, thankful, and the man picks him up and carries him bridal state to their bedroom.

Only tonight, for the first time, Taeyong screams and cries and pleads, begs the man to stop. He doesn't ask for forgiveness. He screams and calls for help, and cries names that aren’t the man's.

The man wakes up screaming.

-


	9. The strongest wind (I bend but I don't break)

The wall is done.

He leans back, panting heavily.

The air is saturated with the acrid smell of fresh paint. His fingers have grown cold and numb with it, his hands looking a morbid shade of maroon for the too many colors intertwining. The skin of his arm is full of flecks and smudges, some having landed on his face, too.

He is pale, face turned ashen by the exertion and the rapture of the inspiration. His arms and shoulders tremble, as he caves in slightly under the weight of realization, looking up at the wall, the beautiful masterpiece completed, the art done, ready, there.

Copied from a shot stolen during a makeup session before a promotion, showing blond, beautiful Lee Taeyong looking away from camera, the hand of a makeup artist covering his mouth and chin, as the fingers approach with a pencil. Taeyong is wearing his Kick It jewelry, thick chains and the starred necklace. His eyelids have already been done, rose-golden shadow playing with the natural hues of his skin.

He looks at the wall and is hit with the weight of the most beautiful rendering he’s ever done. The most perfect fanart. The giant face he’s painted on the wall looks away from him – because he’s never met his precious Taeyong’s eyes directly and he does not want to copy his stare, the intensity of it – from a picture. No. He wants to know how the real thing feels. He wants to see Taeyong in the face and know how he looks when he is seeing him.

He wants… He swallows. He trembles. God, this is art. This is just art. This isn’t the real thing. This is just wall art and yet he can’t face it – the pun.

He trembles, chuckles maniacally under his breath.

Under Taeyong’s painting, in the corner, he’s written the words he hasn’t been able to stop thinking ever since first seeing that stolen picture.

I’ll paint your face – with the colors of your soul

Black and blue, the bruises of love

Red as passion, white as pleasure

I’ll paint your face so pretty

Little angel singing.

The words echo in his brain, swirling and shouted – he whispers them, repeats them louder, louder until he is screaming them, and it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help, it doesn’t help.

His heart won’t stop hurting, his brain won’t shut up.

Little angel, little angel. I need to have you.

Paint you the color of bruises, the bruises of love. Paint you red as passion, the reddened hue of skin after a hit, white as pleasure, yours and mine, on your face, all over your beautiful body.

Little angel singing. Little angel singing.

Yes. Little angel singing.

Little angel screaming.

He falls on the floor on his knees, braces himself with his hands only at the last moment, head hanging weightless between his shoulders.

Taeyong, please. Save me. Save me.

Forgive me.

I need to have you.

-

Taeyong is tired. He yawns loudly and considers falling asleep on his gaming chair. If it wasn’t a sure ticket to backpain-land, he would. It’s that tempting, the chair so comfortable, and him so tired. But he really doesn’t want to go through the pain again…

He opens his eyes again and pushes himself back. The chair rolls away and almost collides with one of the lower drawers. He looks around, messing up his hair with both hands. God, it feels so gross. He needs to wash it. Hopefully that treatment Hair Stylist-ssi gave him will work and make it look a little less fried. Maybe.

Whatever, he doesn’t care. He’s about to dye it again, soon, anyway.

He cranes his neck and catches a sliver of his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. He looks tired, yes. But overall not that bad.

There is a huge bruise on his lower neck, at the juncture with the shoulder. He grins, smug and proud. He really wouldn’t have imagined Mark to have the courage to do that. Taeyong didn’t even have to push him that much.

His fingers caress the bruise lightly. It tingles, triggering the memory of a warm mouth and teeth picking at it. Mark has been so good. Taeyong’s eyes darken slightly at the memory. Mark in his lap, grinding down on Taeyong, hands clawing at the leader’s back, mouth latched on his neck. Moaning oh so softly against his hyung’s skin, eyes squeezed shut and cheeks reddened, turned on and on and on by the never-ending stream of filth Taeyong whispered directly at his ear.

Taeyong smirks at his reflection. Yep, egging Mark on has been a very, very good idea. He lets his hand fall and stands up, heading for his bathroom. He takes a shower, lazily soaping up and washing the suds off. His hands linger on his lower tummy, caressing the line of softly defined abs and further down, following the neatly trimmed happy trail, further down, the nest of curly hair at the base of his cock.

He closes his eyes, grinds his teeth together. His hand skims lightly along his hardening cock. He thinks of the light, teasing touch Jungwoo used on him. Most of the members palmed him as if they were starving for his dick, but Jungwoo had touched him so lightly. Almost as an afterthought, as if his priority had been kissing Taeyong stupid. Learning every corner and dip and nook of his mouth.

God, who knew Jungwoo would kiss this well.

Taeyong looks down. He’s about to grow full hard any moment now. He closes his eyes again, fists his cock only a bit harder, and thinks of Yuta’s hands, the way he’s palmed Taeyong as if he wanted to learn his shape and commit it to memory. He thinks of the way it’d felt to have Johnny grind on him, or Jaehyun. The way it’d felt to rub his dick over the steel wall that was Johnny’s stomach.

He lets his head tip back a little, relaxes until his shoulders meet the tiled wall. He hisses at the contact with the cold surface. His hand speeds up and he bites his lower lip. He squeezes his eyes and thinks of all the filthy, sweet things Johnny and Jaehyun have whispered at his ears, perched each over one of Taeyong’s shoulders and looking down at the way he bucked up into their joined hands, as they jerked him off together, squeezed between their hard bodies.

Even now, he wonders, chasing after his orgasm in his shower, trying to keep quiet – wouldn’t it be easier, more satisfying, to just march into the living room and make out with the first member he finds?

He almost gasps – oh, what if it’s Haechan, sweet, perfect Haechan, who looks so good on his knees and has turned out to be some sort of god when it comes to giving head? What if in the living room he’d found Haechan – Taeyong would get off in Haechan’s warm, wet mouth, hands gripping the back of his head, Haechan only stopping to whisper, siren-like, hyung, come in my mouth…

Taeyong groans, and it almost makes it past his lips. His hand picks up speed and he squeezes a bit harder. He’s so close. He’s so close. God, he is so, so close.

What if it’s Mark. What if it’s Mark, and Taeyong had asked him to help him. Mark would have made him ask, would have waited until Taeyong explicitly told him, Mark, suck me off, but then he would have gotten down to business and given Taeyong his 200%. And Taeyong has recently found out that Mark, among his many other qualities, has a close to nonexistent gag reflex, and, when asked to take a cock in his mouth, won’t stop until the poor bastard he’s servicing isn’t screaming and coming down his throat.

Taeyong comes. He gasps loudly and shakes, shoulders hitting the wall – more skin coming in contact with cold tiles, and hisses. He comes down his peak, and pants, watching as the water flow washes his load away.

He doesn’t leave the shower right after, instead choosing to soap up and rinse off again. Then, he switches off the water and leaves. He towels himself dry and tries to come to terms with the awareness of having just wasted a lot of precious water for just a hand-job, sorry planet Earth – and you know what, that’s another good reason why next time he should just reach the next member, for real. Whoever they are.

His body stills for a fraction of a second – what if it had been Johnny. Or Jaehyun.

Or Johnny and Jaehyun together.

A gasp escapes his lips and he chuckles silently to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, okay. Let’s not get ourselves worked up again, uh?

He hangs his towel, wonders if he should wear his sleeping clothes and get in bed, or not. He pulls on a pair of underwear and picks up a clean pair of sweatpants. He looks around. He doesn’t want to go to bed. But he is tired, too tired to do much else. True.

His phone beeps right then, and he shuffles over to it, sliding the sweatpants on as he opens the group chat.

Jungwoo asking for food.

He snorts loudly through his nose at that.

Jaehyun joining the request in 0.3 seconds.

Taeyong snorts louder.

Johnny types right after and offers to go buy something. Jungwoo and Jaehyun cheer happily. Mark and Yuta start typing in random food orders. Then Johnny points out that they’ll have to wait another hour and a half before getting anything, because he’s still in the gym and barely halfway done.

Jungwoo sends a crying face. Mark calls Johnny cruel for leading them on with the promise of food.

Johnny starts protesting – he can get food for them, they just have to wait – Jungwoo points out he might as well be dead, if he waits that much before getting any food.

Jaehyun writes something about Jungwoo’s Rose being perfect for his Jack because Jaehyun, too, will die if he has to wait that long.

And cue in Doyoung calling them all little, whiny bitches (Taeyong agrees) and scolding them for distracting him from his work for this pointless whining.

Taeyong snorts and rolls his eyes, already knowing how this is going to end. And, before Doyoung can reply to Yuta’s insults, he types in quickly, offering to go buy food instead of Johnny.

He specifies he is not going to carry more than two bags of food all the way back to the dorms, though. He doesn’t even bring up the fact that they have literally dozens of other possible shops they could get food from – they don’t need to order it from the only place in Seoul that doesn’t do delivery. He knows better than raising moot topics. He has been answered too many times with bullshitting arguments about food textures and taste, he doesn’t want to hear (now, read) yet again.

As he expected, too many requests are made, and he repeats, he will not carry more than two bags with himself, so they better trim the fucking list down because two bags of deliveries shop aren’t exactly similar in dimensions to Noah’s ark.

Doyoung suggests every member pick only one item, writes his request and then informs them that he’s muting the chat because he’s got work to tend to, bye losers. Taeyong snorts again and ignores the squabbles following.

After five very chaotic minutes he’s presented with the final draft of the list of food he’s supposed to go buy for his team.

Johnny reminds him to get something for himself too, and sends a kissy face.

Yuta sends a weird emoticon that – oh my god, is that a blowjob??

Taeyong bursts out giggling and reply by asking – without thinking really, where was Yuta ten minutes before if he was offering.

The chat explodes. Haechan only writes, in capital letters, the word hyung, and then Taeyong’s front door slams open, a pouting Haechan appearing on the threshold.

“Hyung! Why haven’t you called me!”

Taeyong can’t help it, and bursts out laughing in the younger’s face, and too bad if it’s impolite.

Haechan grins his sexy, devilish grin and struts closer, until he’s got the palms of his hands on Taeyong’s chest, pinkies twisting Taeyong’s nipples, making the nubs harden.

“Am I still on time?”

Taeyong smiles, closing his hands on the small of the younger’s back: “Sorry Haechannie, you’re too late”

“Oh come on” Haechan pouts, shaking his head. He smiles coyly and beats his lashes: “don’t tell me you have a refractory period that long?”

Taeyong laughs, hiding his face in the side of Haechan’s neck.

Haechan’s phone beeps loudly in the back of his pants. The younger boy slides it out and open and laughs, showing Taeyong the chat.

Beside the lewd comments and the gifs this close to porn, the one comment that catches their attention is Jaehyun, threatening both of them with bodyly harm if they start anything before he makes it back to the dorm. And he specifies that it’ll take only twelve minutes for his ride to drive him back.

“Ah! Then why hasn’t he offered to stop for food!” Taeyong protests, and promptly writes it in the chat.

Jaehyun doesn’t reply.

The members divide between teasing Jaehyun, telling Haechan to have fun with Taeyong or simply continuing with the string of lewd jokes – the kind you should never make once you’re over the age of fifteen.

Taeyong snorts loudly, and then gasps softly. Haechan is peppering butterfly-kisses along the side of his neck, right over Mark’s hickey. He follows a trail up and switches to open mouthed kisses as soon as he reaches Taeyong’s jawline, biting along the bone.

Taeyong’s eyes roll back, and he tips his head to the side, offering Haechan more room, letting the younger have the upper hand. God, he loves Haechan’s mouth – the way the boy will tease him mixing sweet and filthy kisses until Taeyong snaps and forces his way inside the younger’s mouth, resuming his usual position as the one in control.

Only, this time, Taeyong lifts a hand and caresses the back of Haechan’s head. A silent request to stop, a reminder that, as much as he’s enjoying this, they don’t have the time, Taeyong has promised the other to bring them food, and, anyway, it won't take him long before he’s back.

Haechan pouts – Taeyong feels it against his skin, and giggles at the other boy’s antics.

The younger lets him go, pressing their lips together in a close-mouthed and yet very, very hot kiss, again, and then looks at Taeyong with the satisfied expression of someone who knows they’ve done their best.

“Mmm. Perfect, hyung. Always so handsome” he murmurs.

Taeyong giggles, ignoring the way the tips of his ears are turning pink.

Haechan walks him to the door but refuses to leave the apartment, instead claiming he’s got an important Overlord match to get back to. Taeyong, who understands such important matters, nods and sets off, alone.

-

Something is off, but he can’t pinpoint what.

He makes sure his facemask his well in place, and then, for extra measure, he pushes his bucket hat down on his head. His hoodie is big enough to engulf him, and black hoodie on dark blue jeans isn’t an extraordinary eye-catching look, so he’s sure nobody is staring at him…

At yet, he feels eyes on him.

He wonders if he should remove his Airpods. Just to make sure he’ll hear if anyone screams. Or to catch suspicious noises. But, he reasons, if he’s not mistaken and there really is someone watching him, it’ll probably be sasaengs. Or paparazzis. Or both. Sure, they will be taking pictures of him, they might be doing it that very moment. But why would he pause his playlist for them? They have become an unfortunate, normal occurrence in his life, truly a standard now, and he doesn’t want to stop doing anything – literally anything, just because of them.

So he forces himself to breath, relax, and walk at his normal pace.

The shop is close to the dorm, which is why he likes to walk his way there – so he can stretch his legs but without tiring himself.

Hands in his pocket, he rummages with his fingers in the one where he has his phone, types without even looking or slipping it out, and lowers the volume only a little bit – because he’s paranoid, yes, fine, sue him. You never know, okay?

Anyway. He likes this song. He won't pause it, never. Just lowering the volume will be fine. He doesn’t know how many times he’s listened to the song and yet it still sounds so good, never cease to inspire him –

There is something against his throat. Something hard and strong and – a hand, a hand grabs him by the throat, another covering his mouth, pressing the facemask so tight against his lips he has to keep them firmly shut or he’ll end up gagging on it. 

The hand on his throat squeezes tight enough that Taeyong’s breath catches. He struggles, but it’s difficult, the body at his back big and bulky – much bigger and bulkier than his own, pushes him in an alley, your typical definition of the dark, creepy alley where you don’t want to be pushed or dragged when it’s a winter afternoon and the sun has already set.

Taeyong struggles, trashes and tries to get the hand around his neck to let go, but whoever this is, they are dead-set on not letting him squeeze his way out. He tries to grasp the corner of a building but the body behind him jostles him, drags him so hard he’s forced to let go, his hands flailing.

Nails clawing the back of the stranger’s hands, shoulders and back trashing, but it’s all useless.

The hand at his mouth rips the facemask away from his face, Taeyong taking in a big gulp of air, ready to scream, but he doesn’t make it because the hand is back and something is pressed against his mouth and nose, something that reeks of sweet alcohol. He trashes backwards but it’s as useless now, as it was before – the hand around his throat squeezes harder, makes Taeyong gasp and gape like a fish, struggle for breath, and he ends up inhaling more of that substance that he doesn’t know what is, but is sure nothing good will come by breathing it in.

And then.

Black.

The last thing he thinks is that he won’t make it back before Jaehyun does.

-

Beautiful, precious Lee Taeyong.

The man lays the sleeping boy on the bed. White, silk sheets – they had been so expensive, but he could hardly lay beautiful, perfect Lee Taeyong on his plain, cotton sheets. No. So he’s purchased white, crisp, silken sheets. The lady at the shop told the man they were the best quality. The man had nodded, hoping the lady’s best would be good enough for Lee Taeyong.

He looks down at the sleeping boy and his breath catches. His throat hurts.

The boy looks perfect.

The facemask and bucket hat have fallen in the struggle. The man has left them in the alley. So have the earplugs the boy was wearing, and his phone. The man has slid his hand down the front pockets of beautiful Lee Taeyong looking for it – the awareness that Taeyong’s skin was so close, right under the man’s hand, only separated by the layer of the jeans, and the awareness he was holding the boy in his arms…

He’s almost fainted there and then. But he’s knows – he had to be strong, and he had. He’s looked for the phone, left it behind. Secured Taeyong’s sleeping body in his arms, run at the other end of the alley and reached his parked, unassuming car. Nobody had noticed a man carrying a boy in a car, laying the body across the backseats.

Here he is now.

Staring down at the embodiment of beauty.

The man arranges the boy’s limbs so that he won’t wake up with stiffed muscles, long legs straightened and arms along his hips, head only slightly tilted to the side.

The man collapses, crumbling to the floor. His knees simply fail him. His hands barely make it in time and hold him. He looks enraptured at the sleeping boy. The plump lips parted in slumber. The big eyes closed, soft lids bare of any makeup. The sharp line of his jaw. The lithe shape of his chest and body, the long, toned legs.

The jeans and black hoodie don’t render him justice. The man frowns. They really don’t.

He knows what he has to do, but it feels like blasphemy.

Breathing so close to perfect, beautiful Lee Taeyong feels like blasphemy.

He gulps, takes a big breath, and forces his legs to hold him again.

For the next step, he needs to be able to stand.

-

He wakes up slowly. He feels groggy and numb. Waking up has never been this uncomfortable, not even after a bad drinking night.

Shit, has he drunk?

But, no. He blinks at the white ceiling and knows he hasn’t been drinking.

Then his eyes go wide. He hasn’t drunk because he hasn’t made it back home, even.

He shots up to a sitting position. His head aches fiercely, and he hisses in pain, a hand reaching up to cradle his forehead. The new position is probably why he notices his bare knees.

And bare legs. And bare crotch. And bare chest. Bare arms.

He’s fucking naked.

He jumps and brings his knees to his chest in less than a second, heart beating frantically in his chest. He looks around, wide-eyed, and realizes he doesn’t know where he is.

He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know how he’s got here and he knows he was brought him against his will. And someone has assaulted him in the street.

And he’s naked.

He feels the tears already forming in the corner of his eyes and cradles his legs closer to his chest. His brain is numb, half of it hyped by a shot of adrenaline, the other half numbed by panic.

It’s a bedroom, but he can only assume as much because of the bed he lies on. The room is otherwise completely empty. White walls, white ceiling, white tiles on the floor.

Well. White walls, not really.

One of the walls on the side is covered with a giant graffiti painting.

Of a face, a blond guy to whom a makeup artist is about to applying some product.

There are a few lines under, written in shaky hangul characters.

Something about the face is disturbing. He doesn’t want to look at it. He’s happy the eyes aren’t looking his way, so happy the face is looking somewhere off, and Taeyong only has to look at its side.

It’s disturbing and creepy and he’d much rather focus on the hangul words.

It’s a poem, he figures out. A morbid, creepy, love poem. About someone punching the person they love. About fucking them and hitting them. He reads the words and suddenly the face is even harder to look. The adrenaline in his brain is swallowed by the panic.

I’ll paint your face – with the colors of your soul

Black and blue, the bruises of love

Red as passion, white as pleasure

I’ll paint your face so pretty

Little angel singing.

The face, Taeyong realizes, the face is his own.

He screams.

-

He slams his hand on his mouth. Prays nobody has heard. He’s crying, but he doesn’t feel the tears rolling down his eyes and doesn’t hear how loud he’s sobbing. He hugs his knees closer to his chest.

Please don’t let them have heard. Please don’t let them have heard me.

He sobs and tries to breath. He can’t. He tries again. Air gets in, it doesn’t get out. He pushes himself up and stumbles, but he manages to stand. The room is all walls. Three white, the fourth covered with the painting of Taeyong’s face. Taeyong turns his back to it – doesn’t want to see it.

He pushes the palm of his hands on his cheeks and forces his eyes open, adrenaline shooting up in his brain again. He needs to ride this shoot, this is his only chance to make it out. Come on brain, don’t fail me.

I don’t know where I am. I’m naked. There’s no window. There’s no door.

But someone must have brought me here! There must be a fucking door…

Wait. Are those..?

Yes. They are his clothes, neatly folded at the bottom of the bed. He rushes to them and stumbles again, falling on his knees. He doesn’t feel the pain, but he knows he should. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need it now. He needs…

Damn. His phone is missing.

A new rush of panic threatens to overwhelm him but he manages to smother it down. He lies there, on his knees, eyes unfocused somewhere on the wall over the pile of his clothes.

And then, he hears the most divine sound he’s ever heard on this planet.

The beep of his fucking smartwatch.

He sobs loudly and starts tearing at the clothes, and gasps a wet sob of relief when his right hand closes around the watch. He snatches it out and checks the battery.

Half full.

Signal, is there signal? There is signal!!

He carefully fingers the screen and places a call.

He’s crying again, sobbing quietly, and keeping them down hurts like a bitch.

“Taeyong!”

“Johnny! Johnny, please, Johnny - ” Taeyong frantically exclaims, sobbing in relief, cradling the watch against his forehead.

“Taeyong, where are you?” Manager-ssi interrupts him: “are you okay?”

“No, I’m… I don’t know where I am” he replies, struggling to get his breathing under control – and he realizes, the watch, maps, activate the location – the thoughts are fragmented, but still, he rushes to activate the screen again and fingers through the app.

He opens a kakao chat and sends his location to the group chat.

“Hyung, I’ve sent you the location. No, I mean, the guys. I can send it to you too”

“It’s okay, Taeyong, I’m seeing it from Doyoung’s phone right now. It’s okay. You aren’t far, we’re coming to get you”

“Hyung” Doyoung’s voice steps in, and oh, isn’t it one of the most beautiful sound as well: “hyung, are you hurt?”

“I…” but Taeyong stops, because he doesn’t know. He freezes and looks down, eyes falling on his naked legs.

Nothing hurts, but…

“I don’t know” he answers, numb.

Then he grimaces: “But, at least I’ve found my clothes” he adds.

It sounds hysterical, and it’s met with silence.

Someone on the other side of the call swears. More voices. Taeyong recognizes Mark because his strings of swearwords is still going on as Taeyong realizes it.

He snaps into action, grabs the shirt and pulls it on. Then his underwear, his jeans. He tries not to think why he was naked. He tries not to wonder why he doesn’t feel pain.

But he doesn’t see bruises…

“Taeyong, listen to me” Doyoung’s voice again, focused, snapping him back from his thoughts: “what are you using to call?”

“My smartwatch. I don’t have my phone here”

“The police have found it in an alley on the way to the food place” Johnny explains.

“How much battery do you have?” Doyoung asks.

Taeyong frowns in despair at the half full, half empty battery icon.

“Half” he answers.

“Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll find you. Leave the localization on. Don’t worry Yongie, we’ll find you” Jaehyun now.

“The police is coming too, hyung, we’ve got you” Yuta.

Taeyong breathes in relief. Yuta’s warm voice, calming tone, saying those words.

But then something behind him – meters away but from his back.

A faint screeching sound, like, hinges working.

Taeyong’s blood is frozen, and he turns with a stiffed movement.

“Taeyong, we’re coming to get you” Manager-ssi assures him.

Taeyong sees a door now. The outline was hidden by the white tapestry.

The door finishes opening and a man appears.

Bulky and tall. Taller than Johnny, and even bulkier. Pale skin, sunken cheeks, eyes wide and glassy, deep blue bags under them. Scrapped, dry lips, hands big and twitching at the man’s hips, and the bottom of two very, very big arms.

“Taeyong?” Manager-ssi asks frantically – he must have been calling him for some time now.

“Hyung!”

“Taeyongie, what’s going on?”

“Taeyong, please, focus, snap back to it, what’s happened?” Doyoung asks.

Taeyong swallows.

The man’s eyes are pinned into his. There is a look on the man’s face – reverence, veneration, fear. Lust. Determination.

“Who… who are you?” Taeyong asks. His voice trembles.

The man doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. He doesn’t seem to hear him at all, actually. Taeyong frowns, anger suddenly appearing for the first time in his chest.

“Have you heard me? I’ve asked who are you!” he shouts again.

On the other side of the phone the voices have gone silent.

The man lifts a foot, but reconsiders taking a step and instead kneels down, barely inside the room, eyes pinning Taeyong’s own.

“A lucky man” the man whispers. His voice is deep and not unpleasant, even if raw, damaged by too much screaming.

Taeyong slowly stands up, swallowing, cradling his smartwatch against his chest and making sure the call is still going.

“What the fuck does that mean? Who are you?” he repeats.

The man doesn’t answer. Instead, he shakes his head and looks up at Taeyong’s face.

“You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be” the man replies, again in the same not unpleasant but made raw by too much screaming voice.

Taeyong’s eyebrows rise so much they disappear in his hairline.

Not this.

Sasaengs, paparazzi, haters. Those he can handle.

But this kind of crazy, no. This, he refuses to put up with.

“You sick fuck! What does that even mean! Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want from me!” he screams, taking a few steps closer to the man and suddenly stopping – because the man is way too big for him to take on, and because he caught the gleaming of a shiny something strapped to the man’s leg.

The man slowly stands up. His hand reaches in the direction of the gleaming Taeyong has noticed.

And pulls back the handle of a long butcher knife.

Taeyong screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am sorry for the cliffhanger. Actually, make that a plural, I feel like there are more than one in this chapter. Anyway. And sorry for repeatedly increasing the total number of chapters but I only have a general draft of how the plot is supposed to look like, so sometimes these things happen XD 
> 
> By the way, in case you haven't guessed already, I can confirm that no, the kidnapper is not Manager-ssi 😉


	10. The strongest wind (I said, I don't break)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there. This was worthy, I promise.

Once, when he was a kid, Jaehyun got lost at the mall.

He was this tall, and Asian, and everyone around him looked different – okay, that’s not entirely true, but, he was scared enough that the mainly white faces around him suddenly no longer were a majority but became the only thing he could see. He felt lost, a poor, Korean boy shy of seven years old, shorter than the average of boys his age against a swarm of different looking, English native speakers. 

He found his mother shortly after, and started crying really hard, his chest so full of relief that he didn’t even think about the possibility of being embarrassed for being seen crying at the mature age of almost seven.

For a long time, the relief he has felt during that circumstance has gone unbeaten, has been the most Jaehyun has ever experienced. Even during his time as a SM rookie, or when he made it to the team and debuted, he felt many elating emotions but never relief that could beat that past experience.

Then, in the middle of the panic and chaos that are the researches after Taeyong, they get the call from Taeyong’s smartwatch.

Suddenly relief is the only feeling Jaehyun’s brain is able to process. Everything is reduced to white noise save for the sound of Taeyong’s voice, even strained with panic and a barely controlled sobbing.

Jaehyun slams the palm of one hand against his mouth, extends his free arm and blindly grabs the first NCT members around – Doyoung. He drags him closer until Doyoung’s back is lined with his chest, one-arm hugs him so hard Doyoung hisses in pain. Jaehyun barely loosens his grip, only so much as to not have his hyung throw up.

Doyoung’s hands immediately close around the one Jaehyun has placed on his torso. They intertwine fingers, and Jaehyun rests his forehead against the back of Doyoung’s head. He closes his eyes, focusing entirely on Taeyong’s voice. He doesn’t feel the tears swelling in his eyes, and streaming down his cheeks.

Taeyong sounds so scared. Johnny holds the phone cradling it in both hands, as if it had suddenly turned so dear to him. He holds it up to his and Manager-ssi heights, and they hunch over it as if they could touch Taeyong through the microphone. Reassure himself that Taeyong is alive and well.

Manager-ssi asks where he is. Taeyong doesn’t know.

The words echo in Jaehyun’s head, twist and warp into threatening scenarios.

They had called the police not even twenty minutes after Taeyong failed to return on time – better safe than sorry, Manager-ssi said. And what a good idea it'd been: one of the agents found Taeyong’s bucket hat and phone abandoned in one of the alleys on the way to the restaurant.

Taeyong has been ambushed. Some creep had been following him.

Jaehyun cries harder, his shoulders start to shake. Guilt makes him nauseous – he’s insisted Taeyong went to buy food, he could have gone himself, Taeyong has been taken and it’s Jaehyun’s fault.

He’s thrown off the loop by Doyoung moving. He takes a step closer to Manager-ssi, showing him his phone. Taeyong has sent his location, shared it with the whole group on their chat. The hand Doyoung still has around Jaehyun’s tightens its hold around Jaehyun’s, and Jaehyun peeks at the screen over Doyoung’s shoulder. His breath catches – Taeyong is so close.

“You aren’t far, we’re coming to get you” Manager-ssi reassures him.

“Hyung” Doyoung can’t help himself, takes another microscopic step towards the phone, towards Taeyong’s voice: “hyung, are you hurt?”

Jaehyun hates him a little for asking that question, because Taeyong doesn’t reply. He hesitates, and many swears are whispered, eyes are rolled closed or meet others, sharing around a mirrored anger.

Taeyong is hurt. Whoever kidnapped him has hurt him. Jaehyun’s jaw grinds silently, teeth clenching and unclenching in a promise of vengeance. But that would be pointless would it? Because he can’t make Taeyong’s body forget whatever pain it has felt.

Jaehyun’s brain spins in circles, as he thinks, please, don’t let them have hurt him too bad.

And then Taeyong says he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he’s been hurt.

Mark and Haechan looks up with a synchronized movement, frowning the same way at Doyoung, whose face pales, whose mouth is a firm line of anger, Jaehyun can feel it even from behind Doyoung’s back.

“But, at least I’ve found my clothes” Taeyong says, and the jokes sounds hysterical, a sob half choked.

Jaehyun’s eyes snap open in fury. Mark has turned and punched the wall, and is quietly swearing his frustration out. Johnny’s jawline is a promise of fury. Yuta’s eyes are calm and quiet, trained on Doyoung’s face, but Jaehyun can read through them, can see the storm hiding.

Haechan slaps his hands together, in front of his mouth, and presses the fingers of his index firmly against his closed lips.

Taeyong doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know if he’s been hurt. Taeyong has found his clothes, which means he isn’t wearing them.

Which means that Taeyong, wherever he is, is naked. And doesn’t know if he’s been hurt.

Jaehyun wonders if he’s been roofied. Or otherwise drugged. He knows everyone is assuming the worst – that someone has jumped Taeyong while he was unconscious. Jaehyun hates his brain because, as many times he tries to freeze it, it still insists on coming up with scenarios where a mysterious person kidnaps Taeyong, strips and rapes him.

Doyoung’s hand around Jaehyun’s one tightens, and Jaehyun squeezes back. They hear ruffling sounds, a soft cluttering noise. Probably Taeyong moving around. Maybe he’s putting on the clothes he’s found, maybe he’s already done that.

“Taeyong, listen to me” Doyoung speaks up again, voice calm and cold, focused.

It grounds everyone in the room, included Manager-ssi, just as much as it helps Taeyong on the other side of the line. He asks what he’s using to call, how much battery he still has. Practical Doyoung. Taeyong makes a soft, strangled noise before answering that the battery of his smartwatch is only half full.

Softly, quietly, almost without realizing himself, Taeil whispers a promise to permanently force a power bank into Taeyong’s pockets in the future. Jaehyun wishes he smiled at that. He doesn’t. His jaw and teeth hurt, so long they’ve been clenching. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll find you” he says, breaking his silence and taking a step closer to the phone. His front is pushed against Doyoung’s back. He looks at the phone in Johnny’s hands and wishes he could see Taeyong’s face.

“Leave the localization on. Don’t worry, Yongie, we’ll find you” he promises Taeyong.

He promises the same to himself, and to anyone else in the room, who makes eye contact with him.

“The police is coming too, hyung, we’ve got you” Yuta adds, his voice still so calm, and Jaehyun wonders how amazing it is, that Yuta’s voice sounds this calm and collected, when he looks this close to murder.

Taeyong’s breath hitches, and a tense silence falls. Eyes are met, worried glances shared in alarm.

“Taeyong, we’re coming to get you” Manager-ssi repeats, half to reassure the boy, half looking for a reaction from him.

Taeyong is still silent.

Mark and Haechan looks at each other, Johnny’s eyes are trained on the phone, unwavering. Doyoung’s left eye ticks, and Jaehyun’s hand squeeze Doyoung’s so hard it must hurt, but Doyoung doesn’t protest.

Because Taeyong is still so, very silent.

They can barely hear his breath, strangled, and they can picture Taeyong, terrified, unable to breath properly.

Something must have happened.

“What happened” Haechan mouths, snapping his fingers away from his lips and hysterically looking at Doyoung.

Doyoug’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t reply, commanding silence.

“Taeyong?” Manager-ssi asks.

No reply, the same strangled breath.

“Taeyong!” Manager-ssi repeats, louder.

“Hyung” Yuta steps in taking one step closer, eyes thundering. Jaehyun can hear Yuta’s heartbeat, is sure it echoes the frantic pace of his own, of everyone else in the room.

“Taeyong!” Mark calls, voice broken.

“Taeyongie, what’s going on?” Johnny speaks up for the first time.

“Taeyong, please” Doyoung tries, voice calm but not just as much anymore: “focus, snap back to it, what’s happened?”

Because it is obvious that something has happened.

But Taeyong doesn’t reply.

They can hear him swallow, in the silence that has fallen in the room. Then Taeyong’s voice, trembling in fear.

“Who… who are you?” Taeyong asks.

Jaehyun feels like the ground under his feet has disappeared. Mark swears and pales, shakes his head vehemently, mouthing a silent sequence of the same word, no no no, in loop. Haechan snaps a hand out and grabs one of Mark’s, and they squeeze, eyes pinned on the phone Johnny’s holding.

Johnny is silent, holding the phone, teeth biting his lower lip a bloody mess, a tear falling down his left eye, and then a second down his right.

Jaehyun startles when a hand comes down on his shoulder, holding it, shaking him softly. Taeil isn’t looking at him in the eyes though. Neither is Jungwoo, hands laced together in front of his face and tucked under Taeil’s other arm, whispering quiet prayers.

“Have you heard me? I’ve asked who are you!” Taeyong shouts, and the sudden, loud voice startles many of them.

Johnny closes his eyes.

Silence. They can hear the sound of Taeyong’s ragged breath, his body shaking in anger and fear.

“A lucky man” come a voice.

A stranger’s voice.

A man’s voice.

Jaehyun tries to be lucid – this is the sound of a voice of an adult, male, but there isnt much else he can assess from just it. Too little information. Is the man dangerous? Most likely. But is he big, small? Is he armed?

A lucky man.

The words catch up with Jaehyun and he shivers in disgust.

Doyoung’s hand now is almost too much for him to handle, the squeeze hurts, but Jaehyun lets him.

“What the fuck does that mean? Who are you?” Taeyong demands, shouting.

Jaehyun hopes Taeyong’s anger won’t trigger the man’s ire.

“You’re even more beautiful that I thought you’d be” comes the voice of the man, now sounding dreamy.

Jungwoo stops praying, his head snaps up, eyes wide, just as Taeil closes his. Jaehyun distantly thinks that surely Doyoung has broken his hand by now, so hard he’s squeezing. Johnny mouths a silent no, eyes lifting and looking Manager-ssi’s, but the man has closed his own.

“You sick fuck! What does that even mean! Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want from me!” Taeyong shouts in anger.

Jaehyun can’t stand this tension. But there is little alternative. Another wave of silence has fallen.

Then Taeyong screams.

Terrified, open-mouthed, at the top of his lungs.

Many of them jumps at the sound, the commotion almost covering up the sound Taeyong makes when he slaps his own mouth shut, and the unwavering stream of soft whimpering noises that follows. 

They don’t need to see his face to know he’s crying.

Johnny’s jawline is firm and mean. He and Jaehyun accidentally make eye contact. The same anger dwells in their eyes, a mirrored instinct to protect Taeyong, but they cannot answer to it. They cannot move a muscle to help him, and it’s maddening. They don’t even know if Taeyong’s life is in danger. 

They just know it is very likely to be.

There is a soft sound. Jaehyun thinks Taeyong fell to the floor. If he was standing, that is. He is still making that almost-choked strangled sobbing sound.

“Taeyong” Manager-ssi asks, eyes wide open, voice soft. Barely more than a whisper.

“Taeyong, are you in danger?”

Taeyong doesn’t reply. But the sound is clearly muffled sobbing.

“You have to excuse me”

It’s the man again. Soft, murmuring. He sounds reverential. Taeyong’s crying quietens. They can barely hear him breathing. They know he still does so only for the irregular hiccupping sound.

“I haven’t really thought I would ever see you in person. I…”

The man hesitates.

“I’ve always known I would never be ready but, now that I really see you… to really have you here… and really be looking at you. And knowing that that is you, and you see me. Right now. I…”

The voice breaks.

The man sighs and makes a sound like he’s smiling.

“I could never have prepared myself to you, I knew. But you exceed even my highest expectations”

Jaehyun isn’t sure he knows what the man is saying. He wants to punch him, and kick him. And beat him with a bat, until he’s down, and then keep on beating him up until he’s a bloody mess.

“You, my precious. Precious, beautiful, perfect angel. You”

The voice breaks.

“You, I have always watched you and thought how much of an angel you looked. But then you went on stage, the other day. And you made me realize. That if you are this beautiful. It’s not because you are an angel. You… you are more”

Mark furiously tips his finger against his forehead, mouthing ‘he’s crazy’ to Haechan. Haechan nods silently, eyes wide. Taeil steps closer, letting go of both Jaehyun and Jungwoo. He holds his phone – he is recording this, Jaehyun realizes.

Good move. If they ever need to prove… to prove… if something happens to Taeyong… and they need to prove…

Jaehyun hugs Doyoung with both arms. Doyoung’s hands fly to hold Jaehyun’s. Jaehyun startles as their fingers intertwine. Doyoung’s are wet. Doyoung is crying, and the tears fall right on his hands.

“…Yeah?” Taeyong whispers softly.

His voice is deep, broken, empty. Yet so soft, a delicate caress.

“What am I?” he asks, egging the stranger on.

The man hesitates.

“Beauty. Perfection. For a moment… I beg your forgiveness. For a moment, with you under that boy. I thought you were the devil”

Taeyong snorts. It takes everyone by surprise. Jaehyun wonders if Taeyong is even aware he made the sound.

“If I was, you’d be some serious devil worshipper” Taeyong calmly states.

Silence from the man.

“I would. But you aren’t the devil. Look at you. You’re perfect, pure. You’re beauty itself. It wasn’t your fault, I know. They tried to take you down. They are jealous of your light, they wanted to tarp your wing. Because you’re more beautiful than the most beautiful of the angels, and yet you aren’t tainted with sin. You’re even better than the fallen archangel, more beautiful than Lucifer himself”

Silence.

“… Sure. I’m following. Please go on” Taeyong comments, and in the room the members have to smother a snorts of incredulity. 

Taeyong is snapping back from the panic attack, which is good.

But Jaehyun is not as sure that provoking his kidnapper, a crazy lunatic, is.

The man chuckles.

“See? You truly are perfect. And you know you are. Which is good. But, it makes me wonder. Why. why did you let them? I understand, they were jealous, wanted to make you dirty. Wanted you for themselves. If I were them, I probably would, as well. I do, actually. I took you here. But I didn’t do it for my selfish purpose” the man stresses.

“No, obviously you didn’t” Taeyong echoes, dripping sarcasm: “you only kidnapped me, after all. And you’re only brandishing a machete, but. Obviously you wouldn’t hurt me, right?”

Doyoung makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and turns around, looking at everyone with panicked eyes, mouthing ‘what is he doing! Why is he provoking this guy! I’m going to strangle him!’

“You mean if he survives this” Yuta whispers, eyes full of anger for the kidnapper, trained on the phone.

Doyoung freezes.

“I wanted to” the man replies.

Silence falls again, and even Taeyong doesn’t speak for a moment.

His breath catches and he stutters when he tries again.

“Yeah?”

“Yes” the man answers: “because you were pure, and you had let them corrupt you. They must have tempted you, and you have fallen. I… I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to threaten you, to scare you. I wanted to punish you because of what you’ve let them turn you into”

Taeyong doesn’t speak.

“I wanted to hurt you, because your pain would be beautiful. And after that, you’d be pure again. Pain purifies. I wanted to hear you scream, and beg, and ask for forgiveness. In my dreams I can do it – in my dreams, you scream, you beg, you cry. And I forgive you. The gods forgive you – beauty forgives you. And you return to what you were. Pure, perfect. Beautiful”

“Let me guess. That’s the part where I let you fuck me out of gratitude, isn’t it?”

Jaehyun covers his mouth to smother the laugh. Hysterical and unintentional – but he isn’t the only one Taeyong’s words have triggered that reaction from.

The man chuckles.

“If you want”

“Yah, you see? I don’t think there is much up to what I want. Because at the end of the day, after all your crazy speech about beauty and angels, and… I’ll admit, you lost me at some point there – but. You are just a sick fuck, and you want to fuck me. You didn’t kidnap me because I’m pure, or beautiful, or an angel or any of that bullshit. You painted my fucking face on the fucking wall because you’re obsessed with me. You wrote that poem because you want to fuck me. Because you want to rape me”

The room is silent, filled with Taeyong’s lucid words, his anger filtering through the speaker of the phone, and blowing on the fire of the members’ fury. The members can't understand the reference to the poem - there must be one around Taeyong, and, he mentioned his face has been painted on a wall? But they don't need to know. They don't care. It's irrelevant.

“At the end of the day, you’re just another one of those sick bastards who see my fucking face and think I’m going to roll over for you” Taeyong continues, spitting venom and fury.

“Careful, angel. I’m the one with the knife here” the man threatens, but even if the words themselves are scary, they ring empty. Like for some reason this man cowers in front of Taeyong, probably more than what Taeyong initially did at the sudden appearance of a stranger holding a knife.

Taeyong laughs: “Really? I dare you. Take a step. Touch me. Make me scream. Listen to me scream. Come on, come here. Use that big knife on me. When I’m dead, what are you going to do? When they come and rescue me, and they will throw you in jail for the rest of your days. What will you do? Jack off to the thought of me until you die?”

Johnny gapes in fury, incredulity and bites his fist making a throttling gesture.

Manager-ssi is already typing on his own phone, has a call placed to the police officer they’ve spoken with. He steps away to talk. Taeyong cannot hear him asking how long it will take before they make it to where Taeyong is. He cannot hear the policeman reply that the team sent is almost there.

“Nobody knows you’re here, little angel” the man’s voice says, almost threatening.

Taeyong laughs, a cold, cruel sound: “I’m literally on a call with my friends, right now. I have already told them where I am. They will find me, even if you make me drop the call. And, you know what? You’re pathetic. You wouldn’t even step closer. You could when I was out cold, couldn’t you? You did come closer, you touched me when you’ve stripped me and left me on that bed, when I was unconscious, uh? How come you won’t even step closer now? Do I scare you?”

Jaehyun shares the throttling desire now. He really cannot believe Taeyong is literally asking his kidnapper – daring him to reach out and rape him. What the fuck, Taeyong.

Jungwoo slaps his hands closed again, and prays slightly louder, something about the gods saving Taeyong’s ass from his big mouth.

“Ah, that’s what I thought. Big talk and big knife, but when it comes to action you don’t have the balls to do what it takes, uh? Come on. Be honest with me. You wanted to fuck me, you still do. You should figure out how you’re going to do with this fear you've got about touching me because, I hate to break it to you, but if you want to fuck me, there’s a lot of touching involved”

“You ungrateful little- ”

“Ah-ah!” Taeyong interrupts him: “no swearing! I am an angel, am I not? No? Because if I’m not, then it means you’ve said a bunch of bullshit before, mmm? Sounds like you’ve seen me under Johnny and got real jealous, uh? I bet you wanted to be him. Or did you prefer Jaehyun? Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m the team whore, at least that’s what twitter says. Just pick a member, I will tell you all about how they fuck me! Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you be really jealous then”

A loud, metallic sound, and Taeyong screaming.

“Taeyong!” “Hyung!” the members scream.

Silence. Then Taeyong chuckles, then laughed, the sound still a bit hysterical, and cruel, but it’s muffled.

“See? I knew it was just a load of bullshit. It’s always the same, with sickos like you”

“Shut up!” the man screams.

“Why? You think you’re the first one? You think nobody else has ever looked at me and wanted to fuck me? You think you’re the first one who gets obsessed with the way I look? Fuck you! See? This is my blood, and you’ve spilled it! And you’ve made a pissy poor job at it because you’re not even able to use that fucking knife! Who would fucking throw a knife like that!”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“Fuck you! You shut up! And go use that fucking knife on yourself, while you’re at it! And for the records, the pointy tip goes towards the person you wanna hurt, you don’t just throw it and hope it will smash them somewhere on their face!”

“I’ve said, shut up!”

“And I’ve said, fuck you! I’m not going to stay down just because you fucking told me to!”

The man roars. A shot echoes. Taeyong screams. Then several voices erupts in the room, and Manager-ssi hurries to join again the members – but they’ve already figured it out. The police has made it to Taeyong.

There’s screaming, shouting, mostly the man’s voice. Taeyong picks up the smartwatch, chuckles softly.

“I hope you guys heard, because I’m not going to do it another time” 

He sounds like he's drunk. Maybe it's the adrenaline. Then he goes silent.

“Taeyong? Taeyong” Johnny calls.

But Taeyong doesn’t answer.

“Hey, I need medical here!”

“Shit, what happened?”

“I think he passed out”

“Shit, did you hear what he was saying? This boy is crazy”

The line of the smartwatch goes dead.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter I know, I thought it was full enough of events, I did not want to overwhelm you XD I guess what happens was pretty obvious, but, well. Here you go, anyway, and I hope you like it!
> 
> Side note: I love Taeyong with an attitude.


	11. I'm a Moths-Loving Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue in: fluff, cuddles, shower sex, food.

Taeyong comes back to a white room.

White ceiling, big sponged-looking soundproofed tiles, with a million tiny holes that he’s always found disturbing. He maintains his past opinion even now – why the fuck must these things have so many tiny holes. It gives him the creeps.

The air smells different. He definitely is not at home. Or at the NCT dorms. But this doesn’t look like the smell of the room he woke up, the one where his crazy kidnapper took him. This smells like a hospital – clean, antiseptic, too many beeping sounds echoing in the otherwise empty and silent room.

He blinks his eyes open and tries to stand to a partially sitting position. He braces himself on the back of his elbows. His head spins but other than that, he manages. He just struggles a bit and has to take a couple deep breaths when he’s sort of upwards.

He’s wearing a hospital gown, cream colored and open on his back. Gods he hates these things. He notices a bundle of colored clothes on the nightstand.

He pushes himself into a more proper sitting position and realizes even without picking them up, that it’s his clothes. Not the ones he’s left the dorm with, the ones he was wearing at his kidnapper’s. Someone brought him a change. Even a different pair of shoes, waiting for him at the bottom of the nightstand.

He looks around. The room is, he confirms, as empty as his first impression suggested. Empty, and silent, so much that he can hear the echoes of the sounds coming from everywhere else in the hospital.

A soft knocking sound comes from behind the door, and, before Taeyong can open his mouth, a nurse peeks his head from behind the door. The nurse – a young man who can’t be older than thirty, looks at him and smiles politely.

“Hi there. Nice to see you’re awake, Taeyong-ssi”

Taeyong nods and pulls his lips in a thin smile, equally polite. The nurse steps in and closes the door behind himself, bowing quickly before stepping closer. He reaches out for Taeyong and hesitates, hand hanging in the air barely twenty centimeters from Taeyong’s face.

“May I?” he asks.

Taeyong quirks an eyebrow, surprised at the request. Isn’t it obvious that the nurse can, in fact, touch him? He pushes forwards and covers the distance separating his forehead from the nurse’s hand. His palm is cold, but not unpleasantly so. The young man smiles, Taeyong thinks he blushes slightly but can’t be sure, from this position.

The man feels his forehead for a fever, then caresses Taeyong’s hair backwards before leaving.

“I don’t think you have a fever but let us be sure” he declares, fishing a thermometer from his breast pocket. He helps Taeyong place it under his arm and sits on the bed, facing the younger boy, as they wait for it to beep.

“You look good. Considering” he opines. Then he blushes and gapes: “oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’ve said it. I’m sorry. Please ignore me”

“Why?” Taeyong asks: “it should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?”

The nurse snorts: “Yes, but… I guess it’s not exactly the first thing I should be telling someone who survived a kidnapping”

Taeyong smiles. The snort is torn out of his mouth before he can stop it, or even process his own reaction. He shrugs, but softly, not to jostle the thermometer.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t even a real kidnapping. I mean it was, but… it went incredibly well, after all”

The nurse snorts in incredulity, holds Taeyong’s eyes for a few silent seconds, then he smiles softly.

“I guess you’re right” he agrees.

The thermometer beeps. The nurse checks it and informs the boy that, as he expected, he doesn’t have a single line of fever.

“You’re okay” he repeats.

Taeyong holds his eyes and swallows.

“Am I?” he asks.

The nurse nods.

Taeyong keeps looking at the man’s eyes. The nurse fidgets a little, breaks eye contact, looks away. He clears his throat before making it back to meet Taeyong’s stare.

“We had to run a couple of tests. While you were unconscious. It’s sort of a procedure, really. I mean, there isn’t an actual procedure telling us to do this type of checking ups while the patient is out of it, but, in cases like yours, it helps. It usually… patients usually prefer to be told without having to go under the poking and prodding”

It takes Taeyong a few seconds too many to process what the man is trying to tell him. And then he swallows.

“And?” he asks.

He is sure the man did not touch him. He is sure the man did not rape him. He is sure. But. He swallows again. He needs to be told. He wants to be told.

“You’re okay” the nurse repeats, softer now: “you were really lucky. You don’t have a bruise or a single mark on your body – I mean, beside that bruise on your lip. I can’t believe he threw a knife at you and it got you with the handle” he adds, frowning in incredulity.

Taeyong snorts: “He did it on purpose. If he’d wanted to cut me open, he wouldn’t have made a half-assed throw like he did. Or he really wasn’t good, I don’t know”

The nurse pulls his lips in a thin smile, and nods.

“No other sign of violence whatsoever” he repeats after a while.

“No?” Taeyong echoes.

The man shakes his head: “Nothing at all”

Taeyong frowns.

That’s great news, but… he remembers struggling, in the street. He tells the nurse, face schooled into a neutral expression.

“Do you know what ether is?”

“I suppose you don’t mean the philosophical one” Taeyong deadpans.

The nurse chuckles: “No. It’s a liquid, smells really sweet. They used to mix it with chloroform as an anesthetic and a sedative. You passed out because of that. The police found a lot of both where you were kept”

Taeyong frowns: “But, where? The room looked empty”

Apart from the giant graffiti of his face.

“The room you were kept in, the way I’ve understood it at least, was just a room of the house the man who took you lived in”

Taeyong nods. He doesn’t really need the information – he doesn’t really care. So the man lived there. The room where he painted a wall with Taeyong’s face belonged to his own house. Where he lived his, presumably, normal life.

Then again. Taeyong doubts the man’s life could be called normal.

“What about him?” he asks.

The nurse explains that the man has been arrested. He doesn’t have much information other than that.

“But I can tell you, they have brought him in because we had to treat him, he’s been shot in the shoulder. So, I’ve seen him. And I can tell you. I don’t think that man will go to jail. They will put him in a psychiatric hospital, most likely. He is… well. You’ve seen him”

Taeyong nods, looking away, eyes unfocused. Yes, he’s seen him. The man hardly looked sane. He probably will spend the rest of his life in a hospital. But, this is probably good, isn’t it? Yes, probably. The man was obsessed, still is, with Taeyong, now – but it could be with anyone else. He could kidnap someone else, someone who’s not an idol and who won’t have a team of people reacting quickly at their disappearance.

He wonders – no. He shouldn’t. But he worries his bottom lip, and turns to the nurse. The young man looks at him gently. This is idiotic. Taeyong is a grown ass man, he shouldn’t – but, this guy is a nurse. He won’t judge. Will he?

“Is… is it in any way my fault?” Taeyong asks, voice barely above a whisper.

The man’s smile morphs into a serious expression.

“Do you think it is?” he asks, neutrally.

Taeyong swallows.

“No. I mean, rationally I know it isn’t. But, you know. I’m just. What if I’ve done something to trigger him?”

“You mean, what if you’ve done something that could have triggered a stranger whose mental instability does not depend from you? Well. Then you should probably feel guilty for how obsessive most of your fans are, shouldn’t you? Tell me. Do you feel guilty at the way your fans obsess over you?”

Taeyong snorts, rolls his eyes: “That’s… not the same thing. We aren’t talking about the same level of obsession”

“How do you know?” the nurse asks.

Taeyong holds his gaze. He swallows again, uncomfortable.

“You’re… this isn’t really reassuring you know”

“Taeyong-ssi, you are an idol. People project their emotions on you. Their fears, their dreams, their hopes. And even their mental issues. I can assure you, there is more than just this guy, obsessing over you. And I am sure some of those others you don’t know about might be more violent than this man. But this isn’t your fault. It is a consequence of your actions, yes – nobody forced you to become an idol, am I right? But no, in terms of fault, and guilt. It’s not your fault”

Taeyong nods.

It’s not entirely what he wanted to hear. But it sounds true enough, and that’s enough for him. This is something he can live with, he thinks.

The nurse smiles again, pats him on the shoulder and stands up.

“I’m going to call your manager, okay?”

Manager-ssi. Taeyong’s breath catches and he nods vehemently, suddenly wishing to see the man more than anything else. The nurse chuckles and leaves.

The door has barely closed behind him as Manager-ssi reopens it, almost slams it against the wall. The man pushes over the threshold and looks frantically with wide eyes, pinning Taeyong with a silent, anxious look.

He considerably relaxes when he realizes Taeyong is sitting up, smiling at him. The boy lifts a hand and waves. Manager-ssi closes the door and chuckles in relief. He makes sure the door is shut properly and then almost launches himself at Taeyong’s bedside.

Taeyong gasps softly, taken by surprise. Manager-ssi has been with him and the rest of the members for a long time now, he’s turned into a sort of older-brother, young uncle, almost father-like figure for most of them, Taeyong included. But he’s never touched them. He has definitely never hugged Taeyong like this.

And, despite all the awkward tension between them. Despite Taeyong knowing the man looks at him, finds him pretty. Despite recently even breaching the topic for the first and only time ever. This hug feels clean, safe, home.

Manager-ssi is sitting right where the nurse was, facing Taeyong, and is still taller than the boy, so that Taeyong’s face is squished against the man’s chest, the man’s arms around his back and shoulders. The man presses his face against Taeyong’s hair, and Taeyong relaxes immediately in that embrace, fists flying to close around the fabric of Manager-ssi blazer.

“Oh Taeyongie, you’ve scared me so much. All of us” Manager-ssi whispers, muffled by Taeyong’s hair.

Taeyong rubs his face in the man’s chest: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

The man shushes him, making a soft sound. One of the hands on Taeyong’s shoulders reaches his hair and strokes through the platinum blond strands. Manager-ssi kisses the top of Taeyong’s head again.

“Your parents were so worried. I had to tell them everything. Your sister almost killed me even through the phone. You will have to call them and tell them that you’re okay”

Taeyong snorts out a laugh at that, muffled only partially against Manager-ssi’s chest.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry for that”

The man laughs, too: “Don’t, Taeyongie. Don’t. She was right. She was so right”

Taeyong’s arms sneak around Manager-ssi’s waist and he rubs his face against his wide chest again.

“I’m so happy you’re alright” the man repeats, pressing another kiss to the top of the boy’s head.

Taeyong nuzzles again his forehead against the man’s front: “Me too. Me too”

-

The next thing Taeyong does is to call his parents. Apparently, his sister has driven to their place and is there as well, to listen to the call. Taeyong explains what happened, and then has to swear many, many times that he is fine, that everything is alright now, to keep his family from driving to the hospital to pick him up and lock him up at home.

They only stop because his father points out that NCT 127 is supposed to start a round of promotions soon, and it won’t do Taeyong any good to skip any practice before that. Taeyong raises a silent prayer to the high heavens and all the gods that are there.

“But you will call us every night, am I understood? I do not care if you will be tired. Or if you will have to party. I expect you to call us every single night. And when the promotions end, you come straight home. Am I clear, Taeyong-ah?”

Taeyong snorts loudly.

“Yes appa, I promise”

“Good” his father says, at the other end of the line. Taeyong can hear his sister and his mother bicker with him, his sister insisting Taeyong should go back home immediately.

“I swear, everyone. I am fine” Taeyong repeats, almost frustrated now: “I swear I’m two hundred percent fine. And don’t worry, the guys, the company – nobody is going to leave me alone for even a second for the next months, I can already assure you”

“I damn well hope so!” his sister loudly snorts.

Taeyong snorts back but doesn’t reply.

His mother makes him swear to keep his promise about calling every night. Taeyong does, and then they close the call.

In the relative silence of the room, he stares at the idle phone on the bedcovers. He used to promise a lot of things to his parents, and then break most of them. But he’s changed now, hasn’t he?

He swallows.

Yes, the next few months are going to be difficult, he can already tell.

He stands up and makes it to the bathroom. He craves a shower, even if it’s with the bland-scented soap provided from the hospital, he doesn’t care. He scrubs his body until the phantom feeling of stranger hands on him is gone. Or at least it’s not the first thing in his mind.

When he’s back in the room Manager-ssi is there as well, typing on his phone. He’s laid Taeyong’s clothes out on the bed and stands facing the door, his shoulders to the bathroom door. He doesn’t look up when he knows Taeyong reenters the room, keeps his eyes on the phone and continues his typing.

“Do you want me to leave while you get dressed?” he asks.

Taeyong shrugs: “Just keep looking where you’re looking now and it’ll be fine” he answers, toweling his chest and hair dry. Manager-ssi hums softly as a reply. Taeyong gets dressed quickly, the faint sound of Manager-ssi’s fingers always so fast as he types.

“Who are you writing to?” Taeyong asks, buckling up his belt. He slides his t-shirt and hoodie, then grabs his socks and shoes.

“I’m emailing the company about what happened” Manager-ssi answers vaguely.

Taeyong snorts. The man stops writing and rolls his eyes, smiling still facing the door: “I am in talk with legal. They think we should sue. But the man is crazy, it might not be a good idea. And they mention looking into funds to give you and the others more security. Permanently, not just when you travel”

Taeyong nods. That doesn’t sound bad. Even if he’s sure he wouldn’t love the idea in the long run. And it would make everything even more exhausting. But then again, it might help with sasaengs.

“I’m ready” he says.

Manager-ssi turns. He hesitates, then reaches for his pocket and gives something to Taeyong. His phone. The boy squeals in delight at the sight and the man laughs.

They leave after that.

“I had to threaten the members to not take you to the dorms. It was the only way they would promise to stay there and wait till I brought you back” Manager-ssi informs him when they’re in the car.

Taeyong laughs, nervously. He can see that happen. He is sort of really looking forward to being back to the dorms soon, too. He wants to see his friends; he wants to have them around. He’s accumulated enough touching from strangers and now longs for hands he knows.

Manager-ssi notices his state and tries to keep him distracted with idle chatting, but eventually stops, and places a comforting hand on the back of Taeyong’s hand.

“Taeyong-ah. Calm down. You’ll see them soon” he promises.

Taeyong blushes, embarrassed at having been read through so easily, and nods. He struggles to keep his focus on whatever topic Manager-ssi swerves the conversation towards.

And suddenly they are in the elevator, the doors open, the machine tings softly. Manager-ssi steps aside, lets Taeyong out of the cab and calls loudly in the silent hall.

The door of the NCT dorm on the fifth floor is swung open, and lights and silhouettes appear in its stead. Taeyong’s eyes take in the members – Johnny, Doyoung, Jaehyun. Behind them Haechan is literally jumping over the taller, older members to see.

“Taeyongie” Johnny almost-whispers.

Taeyong doesn’t really care about looking cool.

He just flies into Johnny’s open arms, and glues himself to Johnny’s front. A face is pressed in the crook of his neck, and another at the opposite side – Jaehyun and Doyoung.

Manager-ssi clears his throat and informs them that he has to go back to HQ. He also informs them the dreamies might show up later and says something about not being able to postpone something else. Taeyong doesn’t care.

All he can breathe is Johnny. And Jaehyun. And Doyoung.

He is home.

That’s all that matters.

-

Taeyong is still crying quietly against Johnny’s chest when the members decide for a heavy cuddle session. Taeil leads the rest of the team in the building procedure – they strip the couch and the loveseats of their cushions and pillows, pile everything in a neat square of fluff, and bind everything together as a makeshift raft using two blankets.

Yuta looks particularly proud and Jungwoo is smoothing the kinks out of the surface when Jaehyun looks. He grins at their antics and tells Johnny they’re ready. Doyoung clears his throat and steps away. Johnny picks Taeyong up in his arms, the leader limp and just letting the other do whatever he please.

Taeyong is placed in the middle of the softest raft the world has ever seen. The members pile up next to and over him, a pyramid of cuddle and affection. He lies down over Johnny’s body. His legs are intertwined with Jaehyun’s, pressed against Taeyong’s side, half-lying on Johnny as well. On Taeyong’s other side Mark and Yuta have squeezed their way in a position mirroring his and Johnny, Yuta lying down, Mark on top of him, both pressed impossibly close to Taeyong’s side.

Over Taeyong’s back lies Haechan – Johnny faked a pained sound when the maknae announced his intention. Taeil and Jungwoo sit very close to the members’ heads, and play with Taeyong’s hair.

In all of this, Taeyong realizes he misses Doyoung.

He perks up, slightly jostling Haechan, and spots Doyoung sitting on the stripped couch, a patient expression on his face.

“Why are you there?” Taeyong asks, curious.

“I am waiting my turn. I am not going to cuddle with you before I have strangled you” Doyoung patiently, calmly explains, eliciting sounds of agreement and disbelief from the members.

Taeyong frowns, not following: “Why would you want to strangle me? I just went to pick up food, it’s not my fault if I got sidetracked!”

Doyoung’s eyes turn hard and very, very serious.

Taeyong shuts his mouth and the click it makes echoes in the now silent room.

“Taeyong. You are aware you have provoked your armed kidnapper. You are aware you basically dared him to stab you. You dared him to rape you. Do you think that was responsible from you? You could have died, you fucking idiot”

And, now. Taeyong understands Doyoung’s point. He guesses that, having to just listen to Taeyong egging his kidnapper on, without even seeing what was happening – it might have been a tad nerve-wracking on Doyoung’s side. And for the other members too, Taeyong guesses.

But.

He pushes on his hands and jostles Haechan even more, glaring at Doyoung: “Why are you mad at me! I get it, it wasn’t a smart move, I panicked! So what! What was I supposed to do!”

“Act responsibly! Think!” Doyoung fires back, cheeks reddening with emotion.

“Well, I’m sorry if I didn’t stop and think when I was fucking terrified, okay!”

“That’s not a valid excuse! If you were panicking why the fuck did you engage the psycho with the knife! Don’t you have a lick of survival instinct!”

“What did you want me to do? Crying wouldn’t have helped me much!” Taeyong shouts, now just as red in the face. He opens his mouth to say more but he’s interrupted, a startled gasp escapes his lips.

Two hands grip his arms almost painfully.

He looks down, surprised, and realizes Johnny is glaring at him.

His normally calm and friendly face is a mask of anger and fury.

Taeyong stutters, and he clicks his mouth shut.

“You know, he has a point”

Taeyong looks at Jaehyun’s calm, controlled expression in disbelief.

“What? How does he have a point??” he exclaims.

He gasps in pain as the grip on his arms tightens. Johnny loosens it immediately after, reverting to simply holding him, his thumbs massaging the abused muscles.

“He is right, though” Jaehyun insists. His voice is sweet and patient, and Taeyong shivers.

There is a glint in Jaehyun’s eyes he is not familiar with.

“Do you have any idea what it was like for us to listen to that?”

Taeyong turns towards Yuta. Mark has rested his head on the Japanese boy’s shoulder, and looks up at Taeyong with eyes equally as accusing.

“Guys, I’m sorry, but, have you forgotten the one kidnapped was me? I reacted without thinking”

“Hyung” Haechan calls softly from behind Taeyong's shoulder. Taeyong turns, and meets the maknae’s eyes. His eyes have a softer edge but still, they too have this anger inside that Taeyong doesn’t understand.

“What have I done to make all of you this mad?” he asks, genuinely not knowing.

“We didn’t know what was going on, hyung” Doyoung replies, his tone back to patient: “we couldn’t see what was happening. We just knew that you went from crying to egging that guy on. If you’d… if you’d been in our place. You would be mad too”

“I can make you listen to it, actually” Taeil says, fishing his phone out.

Taeyong holds his gaze with NCT eldest. Taeil is as calm as he always looks, finger ready to play an audio. Taeyong doesn’t reply. Taeil hits play. Taeyong listens to himself. He holds Taeil’s eyes, but he notices the way Mark turns his head, the way Johnny’s grasp intensifies.

The record stops.

Taeyong can’t breathe.

“You see” Haechan comments softly. Taeyong turns and catches the sarcasm on his face: “we could have done without the Pirates of the Caribbean quote”

Taeyong blushes.

“I.. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose”

“Oh, I hope so” Doyoung snorts.

Taeyong glares at him. Then he pushes back. Haechan slips aside, against Jaehyun, and Johnny lets go of his arms entirely. Taeyong covers the distance and kneels at Doyoung’s feet, pressing Doyoung’s kneecaps and snuggling his way between Doyoung’s legs.

He hugs him, and Doyoung doesn’t stop him, doesn’t resist him. Taeyong hugs him and Doyoung hugs back just as tight.

“I’m sorry Doie, I am” Taeyong murmurs, in the nook of Doyoung’s clavicle: “I didn’t want to make you worry even more”

Doyoung places a hand on the back of Taeyong’s head. The grip on his hair almost hurts, but Taeyong doesn’t protest.

“I’m here, Doyoung” he whispers, so softly the rest of the members almost don’t hear.

“I’m here” he repeats.

Doyoung nods.

Then he uses the grip he has on Taeyong’s hair to pull his head up, and smashes their lips together in a bruising kiss.

-

Taeyong takes a second shower, this time in the privacy of his own bathroom, with his own soap, and basks in the familiar scents of places and things he knows surrounding him.

Included one Nakamoto Yuta, who slipped in at a very last moment and joined him in the shower.

They spend a good one- or two-minutes giggling like idiots, grinning so wide their face hurts, arms lazily laced behind each other’s back. Until Yuta decides they’ve giggled enough and moves to kiss Taeyong.

Taeyong moans quietly. Yuta is so good at kissing. Maybe not Jungwoo’s level – but, Taeyong is pretty sure that nobody is as good as Jungwoo. Jungwoo kisses like he’s got a pathological addiction to it. Yuta’s kisses are good, hot, and make Taeyong feel so sexy. Like Yuta is pouring every ounce of attention into kissing him.

He tastes good, too. And Taeyong loves the feeling of Yuta’s roaming hands on his body, on his back, up and down his arms, on his front. Long fingers teasing his nipples, palming his pecs, the line of his abs, following his happy trail. Taeyong moans loudly in Yuta’s mouth when Yuta closes his fingers around his cock, can feel the twist of Yuta’s lips morphing into a sly grin against his own.

Yuta pumps his cock into full hardness and breaks the kiss, putting enough distance between their faces that he can see Taeyong in the eyes. That he can see the way Taeyong’s cheeks turn rosy-pink and his eyes rolls back, his mouth parted in soft pants.

“Fuck, Taeyong” Yuta murmurs, grinding his teeth together and speeding up with his hand – then abruptly slowing down again. He twists his fingers in a way that tears a gasp from Taeyong’s lips, his leader shuddering and collapsing forward.

Taeyong’s arms sneak around Yuta’s neck, his head lolling frontward, aiming for Yuta’s collarbone.

“No, no, hyung, please, let me see you” Yuta begs softly, voice deep and sensual.

Taeyong whines softly and tips his head back up, lets it fall against the cold tiled wall behind him, so Yuta can still see his face. They make eye contact, Taeyong panting in pleasure. Yuta moans softly again, that sensual sound that only he can make. He pushes forward, grinds his hips against Taeyong, who slips a thigh between Yuta’s legs, to offer him some relief.

The first contact of friction is delicious. Yuta swears softly in Japanese, eyes squeezed shut for just a second. Taeyong snickers, feeling avenged. He likes being on equal ground with Yuta, he likes that it’s always a fight for dominance, but in this extra sensual, absolutely not violent way.

Taeyong takes Yuta’s free hand in his and brings the fingers to his mouth. He licks and nips at the tips, hollowing his cheeks and letting the middle finger in deeper, sliding along his tongue. Yuta swears and moans softly, eyes trained on Taeyong. He bends down and presses open mouthed kisses along Taeyong’s throat and neck, biting playfully.

Taeyong shudders again, pushes his hips forward. Yuta’s hand on Taeyong’s cock stops and move to rewrap around both their length, cocks aligned close, the fit snug and warm. Taeyong spit down on them, open mouthed and holding eye contact with Yuta as he does. Yuta swears again, removes his hand from Taeyong’s mouth and uses his free hand to guide one of Taeyong’s own up to his face.

He presses butterfly kisses along the back of the hand, then trails along the wrist and circumnavigates it, moving to the palm. He kisses every finger and sucks Taeyong’s ring finger in his mouth, sucking hard. Taeyong swears, tries to hold eye contact but can’t help his focus shifting to where his finger disappears inside Yuta’s mouth.

Yuta closes his eyes, pushing harder in his own hand, where his hard cock slides along Taeyong’s, and moans softly, cheeks tinted red and eyes going glassy. He’s close, Taeyong realizes, and he moves his own free hand to join Yuta’s on their cocks, replacing it. Yuta lets him, both his hands closing on Taeyong’s shoulders as he ruts in Taeyong’s grasp and keeps sucking on his fingers: Taeyong switches from ring to middle finger and he lets him, tilts his head back to let Taeyong go deeper, moans quietly and cants his hips forwards.

Taeyong’s hand speeds up, feeling close as well now. He removes his hand from Yuta’s mouth and presses hot kisses on his lips. They pant in each other’s open mouth, eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, as they come on each other’s cock and stomach, painting all white.

Yuta slumps forward, and so does Taeyong, both catching the other from falling and letting him rest his forehead on their shoulder. Like two pieces of a puzzle, Taeyong thinks.

He can feel the lazy, content grin on Yuta’ face from where his lips are pressed against the skin of his collarbone, and he smirks too, satisfied.

“Gods hyung, I love your hands” Yuta murmurs, straightening his back and grinning.

He looks so good like this. Taeyong smiles back and presses a kiss on his lips.

They are so similar, and yet so different. The way they smile. The way they react. The way they think. Since the first day they met. And even after all this time, what they have in common has stayed. Taeyong likes it. It’s like having a sort of brother or a twin, sometimes.

Beside the physical attraction, obviously.

“Let’s go, I think the food must be ready now” he suggests.

Yuta nods and follows him out of the shower.

-

Doyoung cooks. Taeyong snorts quietly, very quietly, to himself and can’t help a smile.

This is good. To be back, to the places he knows, people he trusts, friends he loves. Having around things he is comfortable and accustomed to. The usual sights, the usual scents. The taste of good food that Doyoungie feels like he has to cook himself because as much as he denies he adores to pamper Taeyong.

And you know what?

Taeyong plops himself on the couch, all the pillows now back in place, and snuggles comfortably. Taeil drapes a blanket around him and even tucks it under his feet. Taeyong giggles.

He fucking loves being pampered. He adores being spoiled and treated like a prince. Or a cat. He giggles again, to himself, and closes his eyes.

On his way to the kitchen, Jungwoo stops and bends over the back of the couch to place a kiss on Taeyong’s forehead. The younger caresses Taeyong’s hair, combing the blond strands out of his face, and Taeyong moans quietly in appreciation.

“Hyung has turned into a cat” he teases him.

Taeyong just smiles and nods, rubbing his head against Jungwoo’s hand.

Jungwoo coos and kisses his forehead again, both hands in Taeyong’s hair now. The younger’s, tall form hovers protectively over Taeyong and he loves that.

“Mmm, look at you, hyung” Jungwoo teases him, his voice going baby- and aegyo-like: “leader Taeyong turned into a pet. Jungwoo will be sad if you don’t purr now”

Taeyong giggles and makes a purring sound that is absolutely not what a cat sounds like, but, he’s tried okay. Jungwoo giggles and places soft kisses on Taeyong’s face.

“Jungwoo! I need those cups now!” come Doyoung’s voice from the kitchen.

Jungwoo stops and straightens slowly, muttering curses at insensitive hyungs still in his aegyo voice as he reverts to standing up. Taeyong smiles and watches him leave.

He closes his eyes again, but reopens them immediately when he feels the couch beside him dip under the weight of something. Or someone.

Haechan smiles at him, moving the blanket so that he can slip under it beside Taeyong. Taeyong makes him space, the younger’s head resting on his shoulder, arms around each other. It’s warm and cozy and he loves it. He could easily fall asleep like this.

That’s when he feels another weight dip in the couch and the blanket being moved at his other side. He blinks his eyes open – realizing he really had fallen asleep, and finds Mark, snuggling up just like Haechan, fitting the blanket around the three of them. It’s a tight fit, all three of them under just one blanket, but they make do. Taeyong has to keep his head straight now, to allow both Haechan and Mark to rest their own on his shoulders, but all in all he doesn’t mind.

He dozes off again. Taeil passes by and smiles at them, finds another blanket and drapes it over their snuggled forms. They look cute, NCT eldest thinks.

They look cute, expect Taeyong. Taeyong looks tired, exhausted, adorable and perfect. He looks like he shouldn’t leave that couch for at least a week. He looks like all he needs is to be fed good, home-cooked food and someone to snuggle up with.

Yuta hip-checks him to call him back to reality. The Japanese boy smiles, as if he knew exactly what Taeil had been thinking.

“Feeling a protective streak yourself, too, uh hyung?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Taeil snorts, blushing slightly.

“Yeah, well. At least not the size of Doyoung’s”

“Ah, but don’t tease Doyoungie for that. You know how worried he was. You should see how much food he’s made” Yuta replies, in a quiet, sly voice.

Taeil fist-pumps the air. That is some good news indeed.

-

Doyoung spoils Taeyong the only way he can: with good food, cooking all the things Taeyong likes. At the same time. He cooks also some more healthy dishes because, if he only chose what Taeyong likes best, they would only eat desserts and sweets, and he’d rather Taeyong to eat better than that.

So he ends up making a bit too much food. Like, what. Is that a problem now?

He dishes the plates out on the kitchen table and frowns.

Okay, maybe he has slightly gone overboard.

Johnny enters the kitchen with Jaehyun in tail. They are all being extra quiet because in the living room Taeyong is still sleeping with Haechan and Mark, and they look adorable and cute. But even so, despite the need to keep quiet, Jaehyun swears pretty loudly.

“Shhht!” Jungwoo scolds him, pressing a finger against his own mouth and nodding in direction of the other room.

Jaehyun points at the crowded kitchen table in a slightly accusing way.

“Don’t shht me!” he whispers-shouts: “how much food have you prepared, hyung!” he turns to Doyoung: “how do you expect us to finish all this?”

Doyoung crosses his arms against his chest defensively and scowls: “Okay, first, have you ever met Jungwoo? And yourself? And there's nine of us. And the dreamies might be coming over too, didn’t you hear Manager-ssi? And! Have you never heard of Tupperwares? What we don’t eat now, we can keep it for the next days”

He gives Jaehyun his back and looks at Johnny, expectantly. Johnny looks back with lips pursed and a light in his eyes that makes Doyoung’s hackles rise even further.

“You totally cooked all that food for Taeyong only. All those excuses, you’ve just thought about them. You made the food only thinking about him” he calls him on his bullshit.

Doyoung blushes. He refuses to acknowledge it and scowls more.

But Johnny is still giving him this look, and Doyoung panics because, well. Yes. He made it all for Taeyong. And Taeyong will never eat more than… half? A third? Maybe a quarter of it.

Doyoung spins on his heels and gives them his back, muttering under his breath about ungrateful members.

He mellows the instant he feels Johnny’s big frame hug him from behind, arms sneaking under Doyoung’s own. A kiss is pressed on Doyoung’s temple, and Johnny nuzzles at the side of his face.

“That’s sweet, Doyoungie”

“Ya, hyung. Don’t ever think that finishing food is ever going to be a problem” Jungwoo comments lightly, eyes enraptured by the abundance on the table.

Jaehyun snorts and presses a kiss on Doyoung’s other cheek.

“It’s a very good thing that your food is so good” he concedes, half in apology, half not, because that’s Jaehyun for you.

Still, Doyoung looks at Jaehyun’s retreating form with a smug grin of satisfaction.

He turns to the table, ignoring the way Johnny is still plastered to his back, and frowns.

Something is missing.

“Hyung, what’s up?” Jungwoo asks, noticing his expression.

“Something is missing” he replies, eyes trained on the table.

What is he missing. What?

Jaehyun snorts quite loud again but doesn’t comment. Johnny takes a step back from Doyoung and lifts an eyebrow.

“Doyoung, I don’t think Taeyong would notice something missing, with so many other things there are”

“No, no, you don’t understand. Something is missing. And he will notice. I just know” Doyoung replies, lifting a finger but eyes not leaving the table.

“Uh… maybe drinks?” Jaehyun suggests, pulling his lips in a thoughtful expression.

Doyoung’s eyes snap on him. Jaehyun shrugs.

“I mean, with all this food. What are we going to drink?”

Doyoung groans.

Jungwoo laughs, catching up. Even Johnny smirks a bit at Doyoung’s expenses.

“The dalgona coffee, uhm?” Jaehyun muses, smiling smug.

Doyoung breathes calmly through his nose, then laces his arms on his chest again.

“Well, he’s not having it. I’ve already made it like, less then two weeks ago. If he wants it so bad we will order it. But I am not making it” he declares, and spins on his heels.

Then again… he probably has all the ingredients already laid out on the kitchen counter… oh well.

He snorts.

“Johnny, please help me make the fucking dalgona coffee”

This time it’s both Jaehyun and Jungwoo laughing louder than they should. Johnny hushes them into silence, but, well. He’s sort of strangling himself to keep it down, too.

-

“Hyuuuuung!”

“Chenle, no, wait!”

Taeyong gets tackled on the floor by an overexcited Chenle. He falls straight to the floor and only by some miracle Doyoung slips Taeyong’s plate out of his hands before he goes down.

Doyoung makes eye contact with Haechan, over the splayed forms of the two on the floor. The younger pulls his lips downwards, impressed at the quick reflexes. Doyoung agrees. He is pretty amazed at himself, too.

“Chenle, you’re heavy!” Taeyong protests, struggling to get the younger boy off himself.

“Chenle! You should have waited!” Renjun shouts.

“Ya, why did you not wait for us!” Jaemin protests.

“Sorry hyung” Jeno says to Taeyong, candidly, then crouches down, lifts him off the floor, half carrying, half dragging Chenle with Taeyong as well, and drops the elder on the couch like he weighted nothing.

Taeyong is slightly flustered at the display of strength. Jaehyun and Johnny – their eyebrows have disappeared in their hairlines. Jaehyun feels slightly threatened.

Jeno, oblivious to the reactions he’s triggered, smiles sweetly and apologetically to Taeyong: “I thought it was better to put you where at least you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, before we did this”

“Did what?” Taeyong asks, scared, struggling to breath in Chenle’s octopus-like embrace.

“This” Jeno replies.

And then Jaemin, Renjun and Jisung dog-pile on Taeyong, falling on him like deadweight.

Taeyong oofs and protests, demanding that they move and pointing out that he would have much preferred cuddling rather than this attempt to his life and breathing ability.

“We’ll do that later” Jisung promises, from where his face is pressed against the arm of Taeyong’s shirt.

“We’ll definitely do that later” Jaemin nods, grinning madly from under Jeno.

“Be content the Chinese squad isn’t here, hyung, or you would have to endure Lucas’ enthusiasm, too” Renjun scolds him – the effect only a little spoiled by the fact he’s lying under both Jaemin and Jeno.

Taeyong groans at that.

“Uh, that would be bad” Doyoung smiles, nodding.

“Uh, yeah, Lucas is much heavier” Mark agrees.

“Johnny, please, help me! Come on guys, I can’t breathe… Johnny!”

“Wait, why are you calling only Johnny hyung to help you, now?” Yuta perks up from his spot on the loveseat, frowning.

“Yeah, I’m not sure I like this either, hyung” Jaehyun agrees, standing up and taking a few threatening steps close to where Taeyong in enduring the dreamies’ attempt at smothering him.

“Jaehyun! Don’t you dare!” Taeyong almost screams, eyes wide in fear, as Jaehyun grins devilishly and steps closer and closer. He shares an identical grin with Yuta, who also steps closer.

“No! Guys! Back off! Johnny, help me!”

Johnny laughs: “I like how you assume I would stop them, Taeyongie” Johnny teases him.

Jaehyun and Yuta fall on the couch – although, to their credit, they don’t really drop their deadweight on the already suffering Taeyong, just very, very close, enough that Taeyong screams in fear, and then groans in relief when he notices the lack of extra weight.

“Ya, guys! Watch out, though, for real!” Taeil butts in, scolding them: “just cuddle him, it’ll be better for everyone” he suggests.

Taeyong tries to protest and point out he doesn’t want to cuddle, he’d rather finish his food, but he’s manhandled by Jaehyun and Jeno – and Taeyong sort of stops breathing at the sight, and feeling, of their arms moving him around as if he was a doll, like, what the fuck – he even makes eye contact with Johnny right after being thrown where Jaehyun and Jeno want him.

Johnny laughs at his shocked, turned on expression.

So much for caring, Taeyong thinks, glaring.

He ends up squeezed between dreamies, his body arranged at Jaehyun’s preference so that Taeyong straddles him with his back against Jaehyun’s front.

Taeil and Jungwoo cover them all with blankets, despite Renjun pointing out they don’t need them and that they’ll start sweating way toon soon. Doyoung hands Taeyong his plate back, and he and Johnny distribute food around. Mark picks a movie and gives it to Haechan to start, and then they also try to squeeze their way on a definitely overcrowded sofa and carpet – you try fitting eighteen bodies on a couch that, while big, it has been designed for maximum ten people.

Taeyong is way too hot and is already sweating before they make it past the first titles, but at least there’s a bowl of finger food handy and Jaehyun is pretty comfortable.

He only has to struggle a bit against the erection that threatened to flag up with the way he’s been manhandled – and he really, really needs it to go away, Jeno and Jaemin both rest their heads on one of Taeyong’s thigh, each, for fuck’s sake.

That’s when he notices what movie Mark and Haechan have put on.

He groans.

“Avengers? Again?? Seriously??”

Doyoung reaches over too many faces, arms and bodies and pinches Taeyong on his arm: “Shht, shut up hyung. Loki’s coming up”

“I don’t even like the guy” Taeyong protests.

Mark nods wisely: “We all have difficulties to accept our true nature, hyung”

Taeyong snorts: “Shut up, hulk, and smash”

Haechan tilts his head backwards and almost falls on the floor laughing.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near guys, and I promise, next chapter will be the real, last one.


	12. I'm a fire, I burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome. 
> 
> Yes, it's where it gets to the E for explicit.

Taeyong hasn’t really watched the movie.

He didn’t really care to, he’s watched it enough times already. He could probably recite half the script by heart, and in English, too. And by the way, he still maintains he’s no Loki, thank you very much. Ten will disagree and insist Taeyong makes for a great Loki, but frankly, Ten can suck it, fans have given him the Black Widow, and Scarlett Johansson is fucking hot.

Taeyong doesn’t feel much sympathy towards the guy who wanted everything and decided to burn it all down once someone told him he couldn’t have it.

Although, if he was being honest. He guesses he could, maybe, see a tad of resemblance to his own self. The darkest one, the one he keeps down, a secret.

That’s what happens when you cradle desire in your heart, when you’re passionate about anything. Desire is a dangerous thing, a flame that twists and burns, regardless of what’s consuming. 

The more you desire something… the harder it becomes to let it go.

He swallows.

I’ll paint your face…

He shouldn’t think about that.

With the colors of your soul.

Isn’t it ironic? How many people claim to know him? How many people claim to have reached so deep inside Taeyong’s very soul to know what his soul looks like?

He should be used to this. He should be used to perfect strangers acting friendly with him. People thinking his stage persona, his NCT alter ego is his own, true damn self.

This time, the man who kidnapped him – it shouldn’t be any different.

Sure, Taeyong was scared. First time he was kidnapped, after all. That’s bound to leave you shaken for a while, isn’t it? But, it’s not that. This man, the problem with that damned poem – it’s how deep inside Taeyong it has reached. And if there is something Taeyong really does not like, is to let strangers get under his skin. Especially psychotic strangers who kidnap him.

To make a joke you could say it’s a personal dislike, a peculiarity – but, that’s it, that adjective, the fact that it was personal, too personal. That is precisely the matter of things. The poem, the words, the hangul character the man has chosen. They have hit home, too close for Taeyong to simply ignore it.

Black and blue, the bruises of love

Red as passion, white as pleasure

Who does the man thinks Taeyong is?

He bites his lip and schools his face into an expressionless mask. He looks ahead with hard, unfocused eyes. He hopes his members don’t notice.

The man could barely look at him. No, scratch that: looking is definitely the one thing the man could do. But touch him. Even step closer.

Taeyong catches himself – he almost shook his head in disbelief.

He doesn’t want the member to know how deep he’s rethinking about what happened. They need a sort of closure, reassurance that he is fine, they all are fine, that this, whatever it was, is over.

They sort of need to pretend it never happened and Taeyong is fine with that.

Only, he can’t just shake it off so lightly.

He could have been assaulted after all.

He could have been raped, hurt, killed.

He could have been kept secluded for who knows how long.

The things that could have happened to him – Taeyong doesn’t need help to come up with scenarios that won’t help him sleep for the next, several nights.

And yet. The guy has barely touched him.

Actually, this is crazy – no, scratch that. The man is crazy. Clinically insane.

The way the man looked at him, Taeyong thinks. As if, instead of a boy, he was looking at a god.

Taeyong frowns at the screen.

He doesn’t think he’ll get over this soon.

He doesn’t like being kidnapped. He doesn’t like being scared. He does not like having to spend even ten seconds wallowing in the agonizing lack of knowledge, has something been done to his body or not?

Even now, after the nurse told him. He does not like not knowing. Not being sure.

The man stripped him after all. Surely he will have touched him.

But, the adoring expression he looked Taeyong with. That makes Taeyong believe the nurse. That the man hasn’t touched him, apart from the obvious required to take his clothes off.

But… why stripping him if he couldn’t even touch him? Why strip him if he couldn’t step close to him?

Did the man strip him to rape him?

Black and blue, the bruises of love.

Come on, Taeyong thinks. Come on. That part was pretty explicit. And the man himself has admitted dreaming to beat Taeyong up.

What was that he said, pain makes you pure? Pain washes your sin away?

He snorts quietly. A few heads are turned his way and he nods to the screen, grinning. Jaemin and Mark interpret it as a comment to what’s going on in the movie – but Yuta, on the other hand. His eyes are hard and they stay in Taeyong’s. Taeyong swallows, wondering.

Yeah, the man wanted to hit him. And then he wanted Taeyong to beg.

He was just a mental case. A poor guy, sick in his mind, who could be dangerous for someone else, the next person he falls for. But if you take this all aside, all that man was is just a jealous lover. Who dreamed about becoming Taeyong’s lover, and will never get a chance.

Yeah. Red as passion, white as pleasure.

He’d rather focus on the memory of him and Yuta in the shower.

He smiles, slowly, coy.

Yuta doesn’t know what is going on in his mind, can’t really read Taeyong’s thoughts – even if sometimes it surely looks like. But he knows what Taeyong’s smile means, and he knows what the lust in his leader’s eyes mean.

Yuta grins, lazy and smug, this sexy expression Taeyong would want to punch off anyone else’s face but that, inexplicably, looks so hot on Yuta.

Yeah. Focus on the good, brain, will ya?

-

Focusing on the good does not means he is able to enjoy a movie he used to love, before his team made him watch it more than twenty-two times.

Taeyong ends up dozing off, snuggled into the warmth of too many bodies pressed closed to his, swarming the couch and the carpet, and basks in the feeling of affection.

He got moved around, jostled many times – the members rotating position every fifteen seconds for the first ten minutes, only stopping when Johnny had threatened them with bodily harm. Both things did not contribute to Taeyong paying much attention to the screen.

Taeyong had resisted the urge to call him out on that threat only by some miracle – had to choke down the urge to tease Johnny, get him to manhandle him into stillness, maybe holding him down, maybe against Johnny’s own big chest. Maybe silencing him with a hand pressed on Taeyong’s mouth.

Taeyong swallows – not a good train of thoughts when you’re dog-piled under members, half of which you do not have sexual escapades with.

Anyway. His fingers find their way through Jeno’s hair, caressing absentmindedly, and Taeyong smiles at Jeno’s innocent expression. The boy is sleeping soundly, his head still on Taeyong’s thigh. His eyes are closed, eyelashes thick and long. They look like Jaehyun’s.

Taeyong swallows again, his smile turning into a grimace. He looks further down the line of Jeno’s body. His shoulders are broad and wide, biceps bulking under the short-sleeved shirt, his back a long line of muscles. Another thing the boy has in common with Jaehyun, Taeyong supposes. And Johnny.

He has to will away the erection that threatens to take over, now. He will not get it up under his members – not, if the dreamies are around. He will not. Absolutely. They are like, his children. His younger, cute siblings that he has seen grow up.

Okay fine, so were Mark and Haechan, and yet Taeyong did not have many qualms about letting them suck his dick – in his defense, both youngers are incredibly skilled. And look hot. And they want him.

Yeah, things are turning a bit fuzzy, recently. He should probably reinstate some boundaries. Promiscuity has never hurt anybody – especially in the entertainment industry, but. It’s probably a good thing, that Mark and Haechan are taking an interest in each other.

Still, Taeyong can’t help but being distracted by the memory of Jeno picking him up from the floor, Jeno carrying him, not bothered by the extra weight of having to drag Chenle along.

Or Jeno and Jaehyun, manhandling him. Pushing him where they wanted as if Taeyong was a thing. As if he weighted nothing.

Phew. Taeyong winces internally. That’s some seriously good jerkoff material for later.

And before you ask, no. Not Jeno.

Jaehyun.

And the way his eyes have turned really dark when Jeno has passed him Taeyong.

Jeno hadn’t even looked at Taeyong like that. Taeyong is sure, because it’d be difficult to miss the way Jeno’s eyes fill with hearts whenever he’s around Jaemin. Jeno might be touching you and hug you and manhandle you and fireman-carry you, but there’d be no desire in his heart for you. Unless you’re Na Jaemin.

Which is cute.

Jaehyun hasn’t looked like he’d found that cute. Jaehyun has looked like the kid who’s given his previously stolen favorite toy, by the very same kid who stole it from him.

And, yeah. That might make Taeyong shudder a bit.

Oh god. Why did he have to have a thing for being manhandled?

No, scratch that. It’s not the manhandling, per se. He certainly did not like the manhandling involved with the kidnapping.

But, think about Jeno and Jaehyun manhandling him in front of the members. Now take the members out of the picture and replace Jeno with Johnny.

Uhhhh – bad idea brain, bad idea.

Shht, shut up. Shut up shut up, not now.

Uh fuck, ohhhh fuck, too late. He’s definitely starting to get hard now. Shit, he’s getting hard.

With Jeno and the rest of the babies around – with Jeno’s face on his thigh.

But. This reminds Taeyong about the other person, whose head currently occupies his other thigh.

The person whose head shifts, and turns, as if sensing Taeyong’s line of thought – the squirming might have given him away.

Whose mischievous eyes flash at Taeyong, knowingly.

Taeyong’s eyes go as wide as the deer caught by the proverbial lights.

Shit. Does Jaehyun… Has Jaehyun figured it out somehow?

Goddamn, was he really squirming that much? Should he worry others might know, as well??

Taeyong swallows, eyes still Bambi-wide.

He imperceptibly shakes his head a tiny bit. Imploring.

Jaehyun smirks, which is frankly very scary, but he doesn’t push. Which is terrific.

He turns back to watch the movie. Taeyong’s muscles are still stiff for the following ten minutes – he expects Jaehyun to slip his hand somewhere dangerous, rile Taeyong up even more. That would be so Jaehyun-like.

But Jaehyun must, for once, feel merciful as the god he looks like – because he really doesn’t touch Taeyong. No roaming hand that comes up Taeyong’s legs, no mouth to kiss his thigh or bite at him, nothing.

Slowly, Taeyong manages to relax, and by the time they get to the second half of the movie he’s even able to focus on it.

Haechan keeps butchering the English pronunciation of most of Cap’s lines. Mark laughs obnoxiously and eventually gives up on correcting him, just makes fun of the way he sounds. Doyoung shouts and hits them with a pillow, demanding they shut up.

Haechan blows him a raspberry. Which wasn’t wise – Doyoung sics Chenle and Renjun on them, and the two Chinese boys go for the hands-on tactic – or better, elbows on, elbowing both Mark and Haechan with alarming, increasing meanness. 

“Guys! You’re going to hurt them!” Taeyong warns them, a concerned expression on his face.

Unfazed, Renjun turns towards him: “Hyung, that’s exactly the goal” he points out, patiently.

Taeyong has a feeling Renjun would not be this polite if it hadn’t been Lee Taeyong, NCT leader, the one reprimanding them.

But Taeyong isn’t NCT leader for no reason. He seizes the Chinese boy with a sharp look, lifting one perfect eyebrow.

“Let them be, hyung. Those two devils there deserve it” Doyoung intervenes, defending his minions.

He loops an arm around the front of Taeyong’s throat. It rests on Taeyong’s collarbone, not pressing down, not pushing, just there. Warm and strong and solid.

Possessive. Close. Physical. Taeyong swallows. He feels slightly dizzy.

Doyoung places a soft kiss on Taeyong’s neck, pushes down the hem of his shirt with the tip of his nose. Taeyong is about to reply something, either to Renjun or Doyoung, if only to save face. But a strong hand clasps on his thigh, fingers digging deep, and his breath catches in his throat.

He turns glassy eyes to where Jaehyun is smirking up at him.

“Hyung, they’re annoying everyone” he points out, calm and placid, as if it was obvious.

His eyes gleam in a way that Taeyong knows has nothing to do with Mark and Haechan disturbing him. They twinkle in a way that screams how little Jaehyun cares for the movie.

His hand moves dangerously along Taeyong’s thigh, fingers skating all to one side, shifting to the inside of his leg. They start to trail up and down the sensitive skin of Taeyong’s inner thigh, pressing the fabric of his pants down – Taeyong feels the warmth of Jaehyun’s fingers so clearly he might as well be naked.

“Hyung, the movie is almost over, can’t you wait twenty minutes?” Jisung asks drily from where he’s resting his head on Jaehyun’s stomach.

Taeyong gapes, cheeks in flame and unable to process that Jisung – his precious, little Jisungie, might mean what Taeyong dreads he means. He is this close to scream a very high-pitched ‘Jisungie!’ out of shock.

He doesn’t only because of Jaehyun’s hand, tightening on his leg.

Jaehyun grins down to Jisung. He rolls belly up, forcing the several members on top of him to shift along with him to rearrange themselves, their maknae included.

“Sorry, Jisungie, but I haven’t had my turn with Taeyong hyung yet and I’m really looking forward to”

Taeyong blushes deeper: “Jaehyun!” he exclaims, head whiplashing in his direction.

Jaehyun smiles at him, dazzling and devilishly and devious, and oh, why, why does he have to look this good like this? Taeyong wishes he could groan, and that they were alone, and most importantly, that the Dreamies weren’t there and Jeno did not have his head on Taeyong’s leg.

“What do you mean you didn’t… Haechan, haven’t you told us you guys were done with the fucking part?” Chenle asks, and it terrifies Taeyong that the Chinese boy asks the question with the most candid look ever, as if he was asking the most natural, innocent thing.

“I didn’t tell you that Jaehyun hyung did” Haechan replies, lifting an eyebrow.

Jaemin groans: “Guys…” he starts.

“No, Haechan, you told us we could come over” Renjun interrupts him, scowling.

“Ya, don’t get mad at me now! Some fucking has already been done, Yuta hyung had his turn! If I had made you wait after Johnny and Jaehyun hyung, you would have had to wait another full day”

Jaehyun snickers at that, and Yuta turns, high-fiving him. Taeyong ignores them, busy throwing daggers at Haechan – oh, if looks could hurt.

“Haechan” he says, voice cold and sharp: “what do you mean?”

But Haechan doesn’t look very intimidated. He shrugs and cuddles more into Mark.

“Sorry, hyung, they know, too. I mean, I didn’t think it was a secret only for 127 members”

“Yes, and, if you did, you were already too late, hyung” Jisung adds, turning towards Taeyong with a thin-lipped smile.

“Jisungie! Ya!” Taeyong exclaims: “why do you even talk about these things!”

Jisung rolls his eyes: “Not this again” he mutters.

“You know what” Jeno says, interrupting everybody and pushing himself up from where he was sleeping – or, well. From where Taeyong thought he was sleeping, although he looks pretty awake right now. He’s blushing a pretty shade of pink, too.

Jaehyun smirks devilishly at Jeno. The younger looks pointedly away, refuses to let his eyes reach below Taeyong’s waistline.

Which means that Jeno knows where Jaehyun’s hand currently is. Right between Taeyong’s legs, very close to his crotch.

“I think it’s better if we leave. The movies is basically over anyway. Come on!” he declares.

The Dreamies protest, but Jeno has already hoisted Jaemin a,d Renjun up from the couch like they weighted nothing. Chenle and Jisung shoot up and quickly head for the door, as if they wished to put as much distance as possible between them and the 127 members in the shortest time they can.

Renjun, instead, scowls and threatens to let himself fall back on the couch.

“But I want to see the end!” he protests.

“You can watch it with us” Jaemin urges him.

“But Haechan told us it was okay! It’s not our fault!” Renjun insists, stomping his foot down.

Jeno sighs. Jaemin opens his mouth again to argue further, but Jeno beats him to it.

He bends down, clasps his arms around the back of Renjun’s knees and lifts the Chinese boy up on his shoulder. He and Jaemin briskly leave, saying hello in a rush, Jeno blushing red and Jaemin beaming.

Renjun bounces over Jeno’s shoulder, his protests and threats ignored as he squirms in Jeno’s grasp. 

Again, Taeyong gapes and flusters slightly, at the nonchalant display of strength.

As soon as the door closes behind the last Dream member, Taeyong turns again, and casually makes eye contact with Johnny.

With Johnny and his pointed look, his pursued lips, and his very, very eloquent, lifted eyebrow.

“Look, I get it. You’ve got a thing for being manhandled. Noted. We can work with that. But can you please stop ogling the youngers?”

Taeyong makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, affronted.

“I was not ogling Jeno!” he protests loudly.

“Hyung, Johnny didn’t even say that it was Jeno” Mark placidly points out – and gah, Mark Lee, quit that judgmental thing you do with those eyebrows, keep that seagull on land please, this is a no flying zone.

“Also, hyung, who else of the dreamies would you be ogling that could body lift you like nothing?” Haechan echoes him, with a very dry look, and similarly raised eyebrows.

Taeyong looks vaguely – actually, not that vaguely, like a fish out of water, so much he’s gaping.

He’s about to shout that he is not lusting after the dreamies, that they’re his babies, and that he isn’t that kind of person his members apparently think he is, but someone speaks right over him.

“Aw, guys, you made him blush again!” Doyoung comments, and Taeyong doesn’t miss the way this is supposed to be a direct teasing at his expenses.

At the same time. Damned Doyoung. He is right, he is blushing.

“I’m not blushing!” he exclaimes, fully aware of his own lie.

“Sure, and you would not like Johnny carrying you on his shoulder like Jeno did with Renjun” Yuta deadpans.

Taeyong opens his mouth – again about to articulate a reply, possibly inviting some of them to visit Hell in the next future, but.

He is caught by the suddenly vivid mental image of Johnny, actually grabbing him, lifting him up on his shoulder, carrying him to his bedroom.

All the anger deflates in his chest.

“…uh” is all that Taeyong is able to say.

The wall of laughter that falls right after? That, is completely expected.

What comes after… a little less. Taeyong is left watching, frowning, trying to understand what’s going on.

The members are still quietly laughing. Jungwoo pats his thighs and stands up, offers Taeil a helping hand. Then they bend over where Yuta is sitting, murmur something in his ear.

Yuta’s eyes sparkle and he grins madly, turns to Haechan shaking his hands, demanding attention. Haechan lifts an eyebrow, suspicious, but bows closer to listen to what Yuta whispers to his ear, behind his hand.

Haechan blushes fiercely. Which, in itself, should be a telling indicator.

Jungwoo grins like a devil right behind Yuta. Taeil rolls his eyes, in a fondly amused expression. Yuta’s expression, right now, could only be described as devious. A child who’s been given a very expensive toy for Christmas. A very naughty child, and a very, very expensive toy.

“Uh, guys? What’s going on?” Mark asks, frowning in confusion and looking worried – frankly, Taeyong shares the feeling: if he had Yuta and Jungwoo grinning like that and plotting at his expenses, he would be worried too.

And if it’s something that made Haechan blush…

The maknae now smiles like an angel: “Mark, we might have created a monster. But, don’t worry. At least you look really good on camera”

He doesn’t sound very regretful as he says it.

Mark pushes up on his elbows and sits up straight.

“What! Wait, what do you mean! Guys!”

Jungwoo grabs Taeil by the wrist and mutters something about them preparing the scenery. Yuta nods at them in dismissal, focused on hoisting Mark up from the sofa.

Mark keeps protesting all the way with Yuta pushing him towards the same room Jungwoo and Taeil have disappeared into. The door closes after them.

Haechan makes to join them, but hesitates, his hand closed on the knob. He turns, searches Doyoung with an unsure expression.

“Hyung, if you want… if you’re not joining them, you can always join us” he offers, sounding unsure. Almost… bashful, looking at Dooyung from under his fringe, and his long, long lashes.

Taeyong’s eyebrows rise so high they disappear in his hairline.

Johnny and Jaehyun’s shoulders shake as they visibly fight the urge to keep from laughing. Doyoung blushes, but only a little.

He smiles gently, shakes his head.

“I think I will stay a bit with these three and then I have to go check on the Dreamies. You know better than me what a pissed off Renjun is capable of”

Haechan snorts at that and nods: “That I do” he answers, honestly.

“Still, if you change your mind, you know where to find us”

Doyoung nods. Haechan disappears in the other room.

A faint noise comes from behind the closed door.

“Are… are they having an orgy?” Johnny asks, so incredulous he almost sounds offended, to Doyoung.

“Most of all. Did you just refuse joining an orgy just to go check the brats?” Jaehyun adds, in echoing disbelief.

Doyoung sighs: “Someone has to do it, and I doubt that Taeyong here will do much walking after you two have your way with him” he shrugs.

“Hey!”

“Shut up, Taeyongie. Doyoung, good thinking” Johnny praises him.

Doyoung grins.

“Yo, guys! Can you please stop ignoring me? I’m right here” Taeyong protests. He’s this close to stomping his foot.

“Shht” Jaehyun silences him.

He pushes Taeyong’s chest until the leader is against the couch.

Taeyong’s breath catches in his throat. Jaehyun holds him in place with just the palm of his hand, he doesn’t even look at him. At first. When he does, the intensity in those dark eyes is stronger than any pressure that hand could put.

Johnny looms over Taeyong, arms bracketing his head. He bends his knees and folds them under himself, effectively sitting in Taeyong’s lap, his legs bracketing Taeyong’s ones.

He nuzzles the tip of his nose against Taeyong’s cheek, smiling sweetly, making a soft, hushing sound.

“You should watch out what you say, Yongie. You’ve said enough bullshit for today”

Taeyong opens his mouth to protest, but Johnny presses his lips against Taeyong’s, kissing him chaste and long, no tongue, just a never-ending series of kisses, tumbling one into the other.

“Take care of him” Taeyong hears Doyoung murmur to Jaehyun.

The sound of a kiss follows, then another, wetter than the butterfly kisses Johnny is pressing on Taeyong. He opens his eyes, tries to look around Johnny’s face, wants to see Jaehyun and Doyoung. Johnny smirks knowingly against his lips, opens his eyes too, and bites at Taeyong lips.

“They’re pretty hot to watch, uh?” he murmurs, voice deep and sensual.

Taeyong blushes at being caught, but he nods: “They are” he agrees.

Johnny laughs quietly, the sound rumbling in his chest. It makes Taeyong feel weak in the knees, and he is very happy he’s sitting down already.

“You know one thing that’s hotter though?” Johnny asks, nosing his way along Taeyong’s jaw.

Taeyong bends his head backwards, following the silent nudge Johnny gives. His breath is coming short already, reduced to soft pants, and his eyes turn glassy, heavy-lidded.

“Uh?” he asks, a small sound that’s half a moan.

Johnny grins wolfishly: “You”

The kiss is hot this time, open-mouthed, demanding.

Taeyong moans louder, shuts his eyes, loses himself in it.

The good feeling of having Johnny so close. The way he smells, the way he tastes. The way he feels, solid weight over him, pinning him down.

His hands fly to grasp Johnny’s shoulders, arms sneaking around his elder’s neck.

Johnny groans against him, and the next thing Taeyong knows, he’s been lifted from the couch, two strong hands firmly placed under his ass. He locks his legs around Johnny as Johnny stands up, shifts them and sits back down, now with Taeyong on his lap.

Taeyong folds his long legs beside Johnny’s thighs, pushes himself forward, grinding down in Johnny’s lap. His hips move almost without him even knowing, just doing what his body knows will give him pleasure.

“Shit, look at you two” Jaehyun murmurs, deep and sexy, somewhere behind Taeyong.

Taeyong tries to turn to look for him, but Johnny stops him, grabs the side of his face, forcing him to turn back his way. He pushes his tongue deep inside Taeyong’s mouth and Taeyong mewls, opening his mouth wider to accept it, sucks on it, lets his own tongue dance with it.

“Fuck” Jaehyun murmurs, now sounding closer to Taeyong.

Johnny’s hands separate, one holding his hip, the other sneaking behind to knead the flesh of his ass. Taeyong moans softly again, grinding down on Johnny, hips moving uncoordinatedly until he finds the solid weight of Johnny’s erection. He mewls in victory, grinding down on Johnny’s dick harder.

Then he startles, gasping. Jaehyun latches on the side of Taeyong’s throat, sucks a bruise there. Johnny’s mouth leaves Taeyong’s, mouths hot kisses down until he reaches the other side of Taeyong’s throat, and sucks a bruise of his own, there.

Taeyong wishes he could throw his head back but doesn’t want to headbutt Jaehyun, so he keeps it straight, eyes squeezed shut, moaning and panting.

His breath catches several times, Johnny biting down hard, drawing a line of angry red signs on his left shoulder. His tongue slides from his neck, down to the collarbone, back up, to play with his earlobe. He sucks and nips at it, making Taeyong squirm and writhe in pleasure. 

On his right, Jaehyun sucks on the skin and presses hot kisses, one hand crawling up, fingers grabbing Taeyong’s blond strands, the other slithering down Taeyong’s chest, nails teasing his nipples.

Taeyong moans louder, grinding on Johnny’s lap, chasing his pleasure and wondering if he can come like this, just with them sucking bruises on his skin and touching him. He feels so close already.

Johnny’s stops, holding Taeyong by his chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. The soft brown irises have all but disappeared, pupils blown wide.

“Taeyongie” he calls, voice deep and soft.

Taeyong pants, quiet, waiting. Jaehyun is peppering close-mouthed kisses along the side of his neck, and it’s distracting. But not as distracting as the hard line of Johnny’s dick right between Taeyong’s legs.

“Taeyong, are you listening?” Jaehyun murmurs, his voice straight under Taeyong’s ear, making him shiver.

Johnny smirks.

“I think he heard you, Jaehyun”

Taeyong can feel Jaehyun smirk against his skin.

“I think he heard you too, Johnny”

Taeyong pouts, trying to regain, if not the upper hand, at least some of the terrain he’s lost.

“I’m, I’m listening to both of you. But you aren’t speaking”

Johnny laughs, quietly. It sounds so different from the usual, deep and dark.

“Taeyong, we want to fuck you” he murmurs, face so close to Taeyong’s own.

Taeyong swallows.

“Are you okay with that?” Jaehyun murmurs, his tongue playing with Taeyong’s sensitive earlobe.

Taeyong nods. Then he nods again, and again, vigorously.

Johnny and Jaehyun laugh.

“Look at him, so eager” Jaehyun teases him.

“Mmm, so perfect, always” Johnny praises him.

Taeyong – he can’t help it, his eyes snap shut and he moans at the praise.

“Oooh, look at that hyung, he likes that!” Jaehyun laughs, nipping at Taeyong’s neck: “tell him again, Hyung, tell him how good he’s being”

“So, so good, Taeyong, such a good boy”

Taeyong tries to stifle it, but can’t – the mewling sound makes it out his throat as he squirms in Johnny’s lap, trying to get at least a little bit of friction of his hard, neglected cock.

“Uh, what’s that you want, uh, Taeyongie? What’s that you want?” Johnny asks, face almost touching Taeyong’s.

A hand is roughly shoved between Taeyong’s legs and palms hard at Taeyong’s erection.

“This? Do you want me to touch you here?” Johnny asks, teasing him.

“Please” Taeyong moans, trying to grind down and push himself against Johnny’s own hard cock: “Please”

“Oh, hyung, he really likes it” Jaehyun chuckles: “I wonder, Taeyong, what would you do, to have Johnny touch your dick, mmm?”

“An.. Anything” Taeyong stuttering replies, eyes snapping open and meeting Jaehyun’s: “anything you want me to” he repeats, sounding only barely more in control.

“Anything?” Johnny echoes, lapping at the corner of Taeyong’s mouth.

Taeyong whines and nods: “Anything” he repeats.

Johnny kisses him hard after that. Taeyong kisses back just as hard, giving up all control, hands fisting Johnny’s hair and mewling quietly against his mouth.

“Fuck hyung” Jaehyun swears.

Johnny abruptly stops kissing Taeyong and throws Jaehyun a complicit look.

“Taeyong” he says, eyes still fixed in Jaehyun’s, hand coming up to cradle the back of Taeyong’s head: “Taeyong, I want you to make Jaehyunnie feel good” he says.

He turns to look hotly at the tiny leader in his lap: “Don’t you want to make Jaehyunnie feel good?”

Taeyong nods, childlike: “Yes” he answers quickly: “yes, yes, yes, I want to”

Jaehyun moans, a punched-out sound.

“Fuck, hyungs”

Taeyong bend forward, nuzzles his nose against Johnny’s cheek. He looks at his elder with eyes blown wide, Bambi-innocent like, but the way he beats his lashes is too coy and Johnny grins, easily catching the act.

“Tell me, Johnny. Tell me, hyung” he presses sweet, innocent kisses in the corner of Johnny’s mouth: “tell me what to do to Jaehyunnie to make him feel good. What should I do to him?”

Johnny swears and kisses him, snatching his head and pressing a quick, hot, open-mouthed kiss on him.

“Suck him” he orders: “suck Jaehyun off, Taeyongie. Make a nice work, will you? I want to see him paint your pretty face with his cum”

Jaehyun moans quietly behind them. Taeyong licks his lips and nods fervently.

“Yes, yes, I want that”

“Good” Johnny grins, lazily: “then turn around, baby”

Taeyong swallows, nodding again, looking incensed.

“How.. how do you want me to do it?” he asks.

Johnny jerks his chin to Jaehyun, motions him to lie down.

“Have a rest, Hyunnie. Lie down. So I can bend Yongie over you”

Jaehyun nods quickly, eyes blown eyes, swallows nervously and lies down. Johnny pushes Taeyong’s shoulder forward. Taeyong hesitates, but then obeys, bending down and forward, until his face hovers right over Jaehyun’s lap.

He swallows, meeting Jaeyhun’s eyes, and realizes Jaehyun looks even more like a Greek god, from this position. Splayed on the floor, cheeks flushed, mouth parted.

A sharp noise and a stinging pain from his butt distract Taeyong, who turns to look at Johnny.

Johnny’s hand is still close to Taeyong’s butt, where it landed as he’s spanked him.

“Get on with it” Johnny commands, eyes hard.

Taeyong swallows again and nods.

His eyes squeeze shut and he swallows another time, finding Jaehyun’s eyes again. Jaehyun is smirking now, hands folded comfortably under his head, chin motioning him to get on with it.

Taeyong fumbles with the waistline of Jaehyun’s joggers, presses hot kisses on Jaehyun’s clothed stomach. He slowly peels the shirt away, presses down his mouth. Jaehyun’s skin feels hot, and smells divinely. He licks a long stripe and Jaehyun moans, biting his lower lip.

Johnny’s hands groping Taeyong’s ass are distracting, yes. Even more when they move to the front, undo the laces of his pants, push them down, along with his boxers. Leaving Taeyong’s ass in the air, exposed.

Taeyong’s breath hitches, and he distracts himself, pressing his face against Jaehyun’s clothed cock. He mouths at it, reveling in the way Jaehyun can’t help the soft moans. He thumbs the waistline further down, dragging Jaehyun’s boxers with it, and licks at every centimeter of skin revealed.

“Fuck” Jaehyun murmurs, head hitting the floor as Taeyong mouths at the base of his hard cock.

His hands fly down, fingers carding through Taeyong’s blond strands and massaging his scalp. Taeyong keeps up the kitten licks at the base of Jaehyun’s cock as he slowly peels the clothes down. Jaehyun shuffles, helping him get rid of his pants and underwear. He props himself up on his elbows and looks down at Taeyong.

Taeyong, who closes one hand around Jaehyun’s cock, and licks a long, wet stripe from the base to the tip.

Jaehyun’s head fall back, and he swears softly. He tastes deliciously, Taeyong thinks, and he doesn’t waste any further time, bobbing his head up and down Jaehyun’s dick, swallowing around it, tonguing the sensitive slip.

Jaehyun’s fingers are gentle, caressing him, but Taeyong can feel the way Jaehyun is struggling, to keep his hips from pushing up in his mouth, and his hands from push Taeyong’s head down. And knowing that Jaehyun is struggling to keep both urges in check just because of how much he loves him, how much he cares for him. It makes Taeyong go crazy.

He stops sucking and bobbing his head, and murmurs, voice turned rough already: “You can”

Jaehyun looks at him, confused. Or pretending to be confused, when his brain is full of hope. Hope that Taeyong is telling him what he hopes.

Taeyong grins, takes Jaehyun backs in his mouth, goes down, down, down, deep. As deep as he can. And then some more. His eyes tear up, and his throat spasms around Jaehyun’s girth, so down his throat. He makes eye contact and Jaehyun swears loudly, mouth hanging open, bitten red and frowning in pleasure.

“Fuck, hyung…”

“Do it” Taeyong insists: “Fuck my throat, Jaehyunnie” he moans.

Above and behind him, Johnny swears quietly. His fingers on Taeyong’s ass stop, and Taeyong vaguely, distantly registers his two, big hands spreading him open.

He definitely does not miss the way a cool, wet tongue draws a line from right under his balls up, to his hole.

He moans loudly around Jaehyun’s cock, and Jaeyhun echoes the sound, writhing in pleasure at the vibrations it transmits.

Jaehyun fucks his mouth, pushing his hips up and forcing Taeyong’s head down, giving him only time to breathe when Taeyong’s face turns too red.

Taeyong, face down in Jaehyun’s lap and ass up in Johnny’s, just lies there and takes it. He moans, hand curved around Jaehyun’s thighs, and tries to keep his eyes open as much as he can. Tries to keep eye contact with Jaehyun, as much as he can, but with the way his younger is assaulting his throat, and Johnny is licking inside his hole, it’s difficult.

Johnny eats him out like Taeyong was the sweetest dessert he’s ever offered. He tongues-fucks him so deep Taeyong’s eyes go crossed. And when he pushes in one, then two, spit-slicked, long, thick fingers, Taeyong moans so loud he almost comes.

The fingers feel weird at first, the way they twist and scissor. Johnny adds a third one, pushes every finger apart from the other, and Taeyong mewls, imagining the way it must look. His hole, wide open, closing bashfully as soon as Johnny’s fingers leave but eating them back in so greedily as soon as they’re back.

“Fuck, Yong, can I fuck you?” Johnny asks, voice rough and deep.

Jaehyun uses the hand on Taeyong’s head to haul him off his cock and holds him up, forcing him to look at Johnny. Covered in spit, precum and red in the face, Johnny thinks he’s never been more beautiful.

“Please” Taeyong mewls: “Please Johnny, please”

They have to rearrange this, and they need lube, so they decide to relocate to Taeyong’s room.

Once there, Taeyong ends up on his hands and knees, Jaehyun kneeling in front of his face and Johnny behind him. They alternate, one pushing in when the other pulls out, and Taeyong can’t help the steady chain of moans and mewling sounds he makes.

Johnny is so big, and makes it so good, gives it to him so well, Taeyong’s knees buckle and his arms trembles. Jaehyun’s hands have sneaked back into Taeyong’s blond hair, the younger grips tight on the strands at the back to hold Taeyong in place.

Taeyong takes and takes, and tries not to come apart, not too soon. He can’t help the scream when Johnny pushes in and hits his prostate spot on, starts hammering on the sweet bundle of nerves with relentless pace.

What comes over him, is a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Sure, sex was great. Sure, giving or getting head has always been good, and he’s never been shy about his body, but, fuck. Sweet good god fucked into Hell. He’s about to cry, so close he is to his peak, and so sensitive he’s getting under the ministrations he receives.

Jaehyun swears loud, the hand on the back of Taeyong’s head tightening. He pulls his cock out and forces Taeyong to hold still where he wants him, using his other hand to jerk off with quick-paced movements. Taeyong opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out and looks up, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes, with an expecting expression.

It’s Jaehyun’s undoing, that look, the Bambi-wide eyes and the red face. He comes hard, shooting in Taeyong’s awaiting mouth and all over his nose and cheeks. He pushes back in and holds Taeyong down, his nose pressed in the hair at Jaehyun’s crotch, hissing at the oversensitivity.

“Swallow, hyung, swallow” he murmurs, voice roughed up by the effort.

Taeyong obeys, swallowing as much as he can. He gasps for air as Jaehyun lets him go, and moans quietly when the younger spreads his cum all over his face.

“God, damned, Taeyong, you look so hot right now” Jaehyun praises, his tone almost reverential.

“Fuck, Hyunnie” Johnny swears, pulling out of Taeyong: “here, let’s turn him”

They manhandle Taeyong, forcing him to turn belly up, his back plastered against Jaehyun’s chest. Johnny grabs the back of Taeyong’s long legs and places them against his shoulders, pushing in again and resuming fucking Taeyong’s brain out. The angle is different now, somehow deeper, and it catches Taeyong by surprise. He would have expected to feel it less, being folded in this position, instead he can feel Johnny even deeper down, or up his stomach, and the stretch feels even more.

Johnny feels so big inside him, Taeyong looks down with amazed eyes at where he disappears inside his body.

“You like that, hyung?” Jaehyun murmurs against the shell of his ear.

Taeyong moans, Johnny having found his sweet spot again.

“Fuck, yes… Johnny… you feel so fucking big” he tries to say, but it comes out stuttered and broken.

Johnny growls and goes back at hammering the same spot, and Taeyong’s moans turn high-pitched, higher and higher until he’s almost screaming, eyes rolling back, hands clasping Jaehyun’s madly tight.

“So good, so good” he moans: “please, please, Johnny, please”

“God, you look so fucking perfect baby” Johnny growls in English over him: “so perfect for me, babe”

Taeyong mewls, lost in pleasure, grinds down against Johnny to meet his trust, tears on his cheeks.

“Please, please John.. Please, I’m so close, pleasepleaseplease”

“Fuck!” Johnny growls, folding Taeyong more, so that only his head is resting in Jaehyun’s lap and his back is laid on the bed.

“Come, baby, fucking come” Johnny tells him.

Taeyong mewls pathetically, mouth gaping open, the knuckles of his hands gone white so tight his grip around Jaehyun’s hands is.

“I… I can’t… I’m… please, I’m so close… please… Johnny please, touch me”

“Oh no, baby” Johnny grins madly, pushing and pushing: “you can come on my cock, come on, show me, I know you can”

Taeyong sobs, almost screams, squirming under Johnny’s powerful thrust, so close, but not quite yet.

He is so scared – he is so close, he’s never felt anything like this, this is too much, and yet he could never stop, but he just, he doesn’t… he doesn’t know if he can, really, come like this, but god, he wants to, but he needs… he needs..

Jaehyun bends over him, mouth at Taeyong’s earlobe.

“Hyung, come on… be a good boy for Johnny hyung and come” he murmurs.

Taeyong moans, half in protest, as if to point out he would like that too. Jaehyun and Johnny grin at him again, and Taeyong is this close to burst in tears if he doesn’t come soon.

“Hyung…” Jaehyun murmurs again, making eye contact with Johnny as he speaks: “I want you to promise me something. Will you promise me something?”

Taeyong moans pitifully: “Wh..what!”

“Next time Johnny hyung fucks you into the bed and makes you come like a slut” he starts, eyes still pinned into Johnny, fully aware of the way Taeyong’s breath hitches at his words and the lust in Johnny’s eyes: “promise me you’re going to let me ride you? While Johnny hyung fucks you stupid?”

That’s it.

That’s the thing he was missing.

Taeyong snaps, like a string of a violin, and he comes so hard he almost passes out. He literally blacks out for a few seconds, and when he’s back in his body he catches the last of Johnny coming as well, moaning deeply as he empties himself inside Taeyong.

They lie together on the bed, after. Basking in the afterglow. Johnny sprawled over Taeyong, caging him in, both his and Taeyong’s head resting in Jaehyun’s lap.

Johnny presses butterfly kisses to Taeyong’s temple, nuzzles his face against the side of Taeyong’s own. Then, after some hesitation, both Taeyong and him look up at their younger.

“Did you really mean that, Jaehyunnie?” Johnny asks.

Jaehyun blushes slightly, pale cheeks tinted pink, and smiles sweetly.

“Yes, hyung. I did”

Taeyong closes his eyes again and swallows, trying to regain composure. It’s a bit a lost cause.

“Fuck” he swears.

“What he said” Johnny snorts, pressing a kiss to Taeyong’s temple. His eyes are pinned to Jaehyun’s.

“I thought you said you only wanted to top?”

Jaehyun shrugs: “I’m not taking you, hyung. I’d like to walk again, and I’m not that flexible. But I want to know how it feels to have Taeyong hyung inside”

Taeyong swallows again.

This cheeky bastard.

“Well, don’t say it like that, at least!” he protests.

Jaehyun laughs.

“But it’s true. I really want you inside me” he repeats, when he’s done.

Johnny nuzzles the side of Taeyong’s throat, and Taeyong thinks it’s better if they stop with this train of thinking or else.

“Jaehyunnie, you better not repeat it again, or else”

Jaehyun grins – and to think that the members call Taeyong a brat!

“Why, what are you going to do?” he taunts him, cheekily.

“If you don’t stop, Hyunnie, he’s going to fuck you stupid. And then, when he’s done, when you’re still leaking his cum, I’m going to take my turn as well” Johnny replies, smooth and placid, as if he wasn’t speaking about them having hot, raunchy sex.

Jaehyun’s smile freezes on his face and he swallows.

“…Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’d be that against to bottoming for you, John”

Taeyong smirks, lazy and coy.

“Ya, Jaehyunnie. How someone could come up with you as a dom, I really wouldn’t know” he teases.

“It might have had a little something to do with the way I’ve fucked your throat, hyung” Jaehyun replies, smoothly.

Taeyong blushes but laughs, beautiful as ever, and then he squeaks.

“Oh god! Johnny, get out, get out please. Someone get me a towel or something. Oh god, I don’t want to think about cleaning after this mess” he whines.

Johnny laughs. He pulls out too, and gets up and gets to the bathroom to get a wet cloth for his whining leader, because he’s a gentleman.

“Whatever you say!” Jaehyun shouts after his retreating form, bending down to press a kiss on Taeyong’s lips.

“And you, hyung”

Taeyong looks up, smiling.

“You’re a brat” Jaehyun says.

Taeyong is about to reply that he very much isn’t, but startles, as Johnny chooses that exact moment to gently wipe the wet towels between his legs.

“Johnny!” he blushes fiercely, instinctively trying to close his legs and squirm away, but Johnny’s big hands and strong arms stop him, continuing his ministrations.

“Shht, Yong. Shut up. Stay still. I’m almost done”

“Don’t be a baby, hyung” Jaehyun scolds him, with a grin so wide it’s about the size of Alaska.

Taeyong frowns at him: “I’m not being a baby, I’m embarrassed!”

Johnny stops, towel still pressed against Taeyong’s, now sore but clean, hole, and lifts an eyebrow.

“You’ve let me lick your asshole, come inside you, and still have a bit of Jaehyun’s cum on your face. And this embarrasses you?”

Jaehyun bops Taeyong’s nose: “Let us take care of you, Taeyong hyung” he says in a cheery voice.

Taeyong lifts both his eyes on Jaehyun, calm, and glares: “Jung Jaehyun, I promise you. I’m going to fucking break your back. Then we’ll see if you will still keep this attitude up”

Johnny snorts and laughs.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Jaehyun asks, beaming.

Taeyong grabs the back of his head and pushes him down, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the younger’s awaiting lips.

“It’s a fucking promise” he answers.

Jaehyun melts in the kiss and beams right after.

“Oh, hyung. I hope so”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohooo!! It's overrrrr!! I'm a free elf now bitches!! Okay no but seriously. I know towards the end this story has gotten pretty obvious where it was headed. Even so, I hope you were still able to enjoy it. I'm getting way too many ships in my head and I guess this many pairings were a plan too ambitious for my poor soul 😂😅 anyway!! 
> 
> Let me know if you liked it, what you've liked, and what you think didn't work.  
> Bye!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is all made up. Please note that I absolutely adore Taeyong and I wish him all the happiness in this world. I am also aware he's no saint, but I don't care. If you're a hater, fuck off (if you're a hater, you shouldn't be reading this). I love the all-round performer Taeyong is, and I believe he is much more than just a pretty face. I hope nothing like the bad things in my fic ever happen (and never have) to him. 
> 
> That being said, if you liked what you've read so far please consider leaving kudos and/or a comment, I'd be interesting in hearing (well, reading) your opinion. 
> 
> And remember: we're fans. We love. But we are also fanfictions writers. We need the nasty, raunchy bits, okay.


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